| LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.! 

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{UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.? 




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ROMANCE 



WITHOUT FICTION; 



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By HENRY BLEBY, 

CHAIRMAN AND GENERAL SUPERINTENDENT OF THE WESLEYAN MISSIONS 
IN THE BAHAMAS. 



" Truth needs no flowers of speech." — Pope. 



NEW YORK: 
NELSON & PHILLIPS. 

CINCINNATI: HITCHCOCK & WALDEN. 

SUNDAY-SCHOOL DEPARTMENT. 



PREFACE 



JHESE sketches have been written at dif- 
ferent times since 1853 ; some of them in 
Barbadoes, others in Paris, some upon the 
sea, and several in the Bahamas. They are not 
tales of fiction. All the persons mentioned in 
them were real actors on the stage of life, and 
all the events described were veritable occur- 
rences. Should any hearts be moved to pity 
by reading these stories, it will not be pity 
wasted upon mere imaginary suffering. If tears 
of sympathy are called forth, they will not be 
shed over fanciful distress and ideal woe. 

The narrative element possesses a subtle fas- 
cinating power, that accounts for the supremacy 
of the novel and the story above every other 
form of literary art. The omnivorous appetite 
that prevails in the nursery for such stories as 
"Jack the Giant Killer," "Little Red Riding- 
Hood/' and " Cinderella," is a silent acknowl- 
edgment of this power. Jack's insatiable love 



6 Preface. 

of yarns upon the forecastle is homage ren- 
dered to it. And the preference of Sunday- 
scholars for story volumes, above all others 
that load the shelves of the library, is a tacit 
assertion of the enchanting influence. The 
story is at the bottom of the epic and the 
drama, and the most pleasing essays and dis- 
quisitions are those which embody brief stories 
for enlivenment and illustration. Even in the 
sacred volume the narrative element abounds, 
recognizing the fact that the taste for it has its 
basis in the depths of human nature. 

It is hoped that this volume of truthful nar- 
rative will not only afford amusement and grati- 
fication to its readers, but serve also to deepen 
in many hearts an interest in the great work of 
Christian missions, by which the kingdoms of 
this world are to be subdued and won for the 
Prince of Peace. 



CONTENTS. 



Sketch Page 

I. Prayer Answered 9 

II. The Famine of the Word 38 

III. The Martyr Missionary 69 

IV. Judgment Hill 103 

V. The Assassin 113 

VI. The Hell-Fire Club 130 

VII. The Blacksmith's Wedding 147 

VIII. In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years 165 

IX. The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers 180 

X. The Groundless Panic 201 

XI. The Lost Missionary 227 

XII. Yellow-Fever Victims 237 

XIII. The Midshipmen's Frolic 253 

XIV. Benjie and Juno 270 

XV. Driving Away the Rooks 277 

XVI. Father and Son ; 328 

XVII. The Kidnapped Noble 334 

XVIII. Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties 362 

XIX. Blighted Lives 373 

XX. Happy Deaths 395 

XXI. Crossing the Atlantic 415 



8 Contents. 

Sketch • Pack 

XXII. A Child of Sorrow 445 

XXIII. The Funeral Sermon 459 

XXIV. A Mother's Dream 470 

XXV. The Old Sanctuary 481 

XXVI. The Curse Causeless 519 

XXVII. The Wedding ; 532 

XXVIII. The Broken Promise 540 

XXIX. The Murdered Child. 547 

XXX. The Broken Heart 566 



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Manchioneal Chapel 2 



BOMANCE WITHOUT FICTION. 




Prayer Answered. 

More things are wrought by prayer 
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let thy voice 
Eise like a fountain for me night and day, 
For what are men better than sheep or goats, 
That nourish a blind life within the brain, 
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer, 
Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? 
For so the whole round earth is every way 
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.— Tennyson. 

L EAR the center of the pleasant little island 
of Antigua — which, like most of its sister 
isles, abounds with natural beauties and 
smiling landscapes — on a sugar plantation delight- 
fully situated, resides a Mr. Gilbert. He occupies 
a large, well-furnished mansion, abounding in all 
the luxurious comforts with which wealthy West 
India planters generally surround themselves ; a 
class of men to whom the words of heavenly wisdom 
apply with much truth, "men of the world who have 
their portion in this life," and who deny them- 
selves no earthly indulgence that is within their 
reach. Mr. Gilbert is one of the principal men of 
the island, wealthy and well-educated ; and, as 



io Romance Without Fiction. 

Speaker of the House of Assembly, holds one of 
the highest official situations in the land. . An ex- 
tensive proprietor of the soil, and the owner of 
slaves on a large scale — several hundreds looking 
to him as their proprietor — he is regarded as one 
of the most influential persons in the colony. He 
bears, however, the reputation of being a kind and 
indulgent master, under whom slavery is stripped 
of many of its revolting features. None of his 
slaves are either flogged into a bloody grave, or 
ground out of life by reckless and incessant toil 
beyond human strength to endure. Broken down 
in health by one of those diseases which prevail 
within the tropics, when all means of restoration 
have failed nearer home this gentleman is advised 
*by his medical attendants to try the effects of a 
voyage to England, often the best remedy in such 
intertropical ailments. 

Navigation has not yet arrived at that advanced 
degree of perfection which it is destined to reach 
in after years. A voyage to Europe from the 
West Indies is a matter of time, and is not without 
considerable risk. But when life and health are 
at stake, men will make sacrifices, and expose 
themselves to hazards they would not otherwise 
encounter. Mr. Gilbert resolves to act upon the 
advice of his physicians; and in one of the well 
loaded and comfortably fitted ships which bear his 
own produce to the European market, bids adieu 
to his native isle, uncertain, in the shattered state 
of his- health, whether he shall ever look upon 
those lovely shores again. It pleased the wise 



Prayer Answered. 1 1 

Disposer of events to restore him ; the long sea 
voyage, and a short residence in England, ac- 
complish the purpose for which he has left his 
home. 

For thirty or forty years John Wesley has been 
passing through the country, a flame of light and 
love, carrying blessing and peace and salvation to 
thousands of wretched homes. The fruits of his 
God-honored labors are covering the land, and his 
name is every-where known to be venerated by 
multitudes, who owe all their most precious hopes 
to his loving toil ; having by his preaching been 
led to the Saviour of sinners. Mr. Gilbert hears 
of this wonderful man, who is making such a noise 
in the nation ; praised by some, denounced as a 
troubler and a fanatic by others. Perhaps it may 
be that sickness and a near approach to the con- 
fines of the unseen world have not been without 
some effect upon his mind ; or that God's loving- 
kindness in his restoring his shattered health may 
have exerted a softening influence, and predisposed 
his heart to listen favorably to the message of 
Divine mercy. Certain it is, however, that the 
life-giving word lays hold upon his conscience. 
As he listens to that servant of the Lord, who has 
been the herald of salvation to multitudes, a 
vivid impression of eternal things comes upon his 
mind. Thoughts of God and of religion are 
awakened, to which he has all his life been a 
stranger. The past and the future are presented 
in a light altogether new to him ; and the proud 
man of the world — the self-indulgent slaveholder 



12 Romance Without Fiction. 

— is found humbled at the foot of the cross, earn- 
estly praying, " God be merciful to me a sinner." 
Burdened and heavy laden with a sense of sin, 
he soon forms an acquaintance with the God- 
honored man whose powerful ministry has been 
the means of awakening him to a sense of his guilt 
and danger as a sinner, and ere long he is enabled 
to rejoice in the blessings of salvation, passed from 
death unto life, and made a child of God by faith 
in Christ Jesus. 

Mr. Gilbert resided for some time in England, 
during which he had the privilege of frequent in- 
tercourse with the founder of Methodism, who 
preached in his house at Wandsworth, and bap- 
tized two of the negro slaves he had taken with 
him to the mother country, who, like their owner, 
had heard the Gospel to salvation, and he re- 
turned to Antigua about 1759. Thus to John 
Wesley himself is to be ascribed the honor of lay- 
ing the foundation of the prosperous Methodist 
Churches in the West Indies. Not only was Mr. 
Gilbert brought to God through his instrumentali- 
ty — the first among the slave owners — but the two 
slaves of that gentleman, received into the Church 
by baptism administered by the Founder of Meth- 
odism, were the first-fruits and the earnest of a 
large- harvest of souls to be gathered into the gar- 
ner of the Lord from among the enslaved children 
of Africa by that ministry of Methodism which 
Mr. Wesley originated. 

The West Indian planter is a greatly changed 
man when his foot again presses the soil of Anti- 



Prayer Answered. 13 

gua. He has not only gained the physical health 
he went to seek in Europe ; he has found the pearl 
of great price. Once a child of wrath even as 
others, having his portion in this life, and caring 
-for nothing beyond it, he is now a new creature, 
translated out of the kingdom of darkness into 
the kingdom of God's dear Son ; a warm-hearted, 
devoted member of the Methodist body. 

Settled again on his own plantation, he no 
longer looks around him with the heedlessness and 
indifference of former times. Once, in common 
with the men of his class, he identified the negroes 
who cultivated his lands with the monkey tribes, 
as mere goods and chattels ; or as being at best 
such a degenerate variety of the human species as 
to defy all cultivation of mind or correction of 
morals. But old things have passed away, and all 
things have become new. Those dense clouds of 
prejudice with which sin and selfishness had bur- 
dened his mind have been dispelled by the bright 
Sun of Righteousness shining upon his soul, and 
now he regards the sable children of toil around 
him as men and brethren — men equally with him- 
self heirs of immortality, and equally with himself 
interested in a heavenly Father's love, and entitled 
to the blessings of redemption. The love of God 
that has been shed abroad in his heart is not 
mere sentimentality. It is the loving, active prin- 
ciple that produces a yearning charity to his fel- 
low-men. It is like a fire in his bones, that will 
give him no rest until he makes known to the 
thousands of souls perishing all around him in 



14 Romance Without Fiction. 

darkness and sin, and to persons of all shades of 
color, that glorious Gospel which has been to him- 
self the power of God to salvation. 

It soon begins to be whispered that there are 
" strange doings at Gilbert's." The plantation is 
known by the family name. It is observed that 
the mill is not in motion, and there is no smoke 
from the boiling-house on Sunday, as there used 
to be. On that day there is no work of any kind 
done on the plantation. Worse than this, Mr. 
Gilbert is reported to have " gone mad, for he is 
trying to teach religion to the negroes.; and he 
might just as well try to turn his mules and oxen 
into men, as to make Christians out of negro 
slaves." 

The fact is that the master of Gilbert's, con- 
strained by the love of Christ, has begun to do 
something for the salvation of the souls living and 
dying all around him in ignorance and in sin. 
He first of all gathers his household for domestic 
worship ; and many of the slaves of the estate, as 
they can get an opportunity, crowd in on these 
occasions, and manifest an earnest desire to know 
something of this " new religion," as they call it, 
of which they have never heard any thing before. 
The two converted slaves baptized by Mr. Wesley 
tell their fellow-slaves of what God has done for 
them, and the happiness of which they have been 
made partakers; and in many hearts there is 
awakened an intense yearning for instruction 
concerning the things of God. This desire, freely 
expressed by many of these poor ignorant negroes, 



Prayer Answered. 15 

he regards as a providential call pointing out to 
him the path of Christian duty. Regardless of 
what may be said or thought by those around him, 
he boldly takes up the cross, and Sabbath after 
Sabbath speaks to the assembled negroes of his 
own plantation concerning their souls, the great 
work of redemption, and the things belonging to 
their peace. And the work grows. The slaves 
from other estates venture tremblingly to Gilbert's 
when they can make an opportunity, not quite sure 
that they will not be driven away or punished ; 
but they become more bold and confident when 
they find that their presence gives no offense, but 
is rather welcomed both by Mr. Gilbert and his 
people. Then some of the white people go to see 
this strange sight — one of the leading men of the 
island become "a negro parson. " After awhile 
the Sabbath services at Gilbert's become an ac- 
knowledged institution throughout the district in 
which the plantation is situated, and multitudes 
resort thither to join in Christian worship, and 
receive instruction in the way of life. 

Probably had some person of inferior note at- 
tempted such an innovation upon the established 
state of things in the island, he would have been 
indignantly driven from the land by the ungodly 
and deeply-prejudiced slaveholders. But God 
has wisely chosen the right instrument for com- 
mencing a work pregnant with such grand results. 
He has laid his hand upon the proper man. The 
religion-haters of the colony may scowl, and 
grumble, and mutter vain protestations. Many of 



1 6 Romance Without Fiction. 

them do so. But Mr. Gilbert is beyond their 
control. He occupies a position in society which 
sets their opposition at nought. Consequently no 
active measures are taken to interfere with the 
Sabbath services at Gilbert's. In this is seen and 
recognized the all-controlling providence of God. 

The work goes prosperously on. First one and 
then another presents himself, groaning under the 
burden of a guilty conscience, and anxious to 
know what they must do to be saved. They are 
directed to " the Lamb of God, that taketh away 
the sin of the world, " and obtain peace with God, 
and rejoice in the blessings of salvation. After 
the lapse of a few years there are found upward 
of two hundred souls, chiefly negro slaves, rejoicing 
in a new life, and in the spiritual liberty where- 
with Christ has made them free. They have all 
been gathered into classes, after the model of En- 
glish Methodism ; and many a negro hut resounds 
with the voice of prayer and praise, where, for 
generations, there has been the unbroken stillness 
of spiritual death. 

Dark and mysterious are the ways of God ! Mr. 
Gilbert has prosecuted his unostentatious career 
of usefulness until he has lived down all the re- 
proach that was cast upon him. And the little so- 
ciety of which he is the overseer has become firm- 
ly established, when his health again gives way. 
Many tears and many prayers are called forth 
when his sickness becomes known. But after a 
short illness he passes away in Christian triumph 
to the realms of the blest, and the little flock of 



Prayer Answered. iy 

converted souls, who have been brought to Christ 
through his labors, are left without a shepherd. 
His loss is greatly mourned, for there is none 
left to take his place, and preach, as he had done, 
Sabbath after Sabbath, the word of life to the poor 
enslaved children of Africa, who had too much 
cause to say, before he became their instructor in 
the things of God, " No man cared for my soul.'' 
Gilbert's, deprived of its master, has become 
spiritually a desolation. There is no longer seen 
on the Sabbath forenoon a multitude, clad in their 
best and cleanest apparel, going up with joy to the 
house of prayer. The voice of the beloved 
preacher who had proclaimed to the multitude 
the glad tidings of great joy is silent in the dust, 
and gloom and sorrow are in many habitations. 

In the absence of every thing like pastoral care 
and oversight, it is not surprising that during the 
lapse of several years some of the members fall 
away, and classes which had been formed are 
broken up. But there are two faithful negro wom- 
en who strive and labor earnestly to keep to- 
gether the scattering flock. Among those things 
which their faithful instructor has often delighted 
to dwell upon, both in his public and private min- 
istrations, was the power of prayer ; and he con- 
tinually urged them, as a duty and a privilege, " In 
every thing by prayer and supplication with thanks- 
giving to make known their requests unto God." 
These two earnest class-leaders have not forgotten 
this. They call to mind the examples he had 
brought from the Scriptures to show how God 



1 8 Romance Without Fiction. 

hears, and ultimately answers, the prayer of faith. 
They remember what he told them of Abraham, 
and Elijah, and Daniel, and others who pleaded 
successfully with God ; and they urge the people 
now, in this time of extremity, when God alone 
can help them, to call upon him in prayer. They 
want a teacher to supply the place of Mr. Gilbert, 
and show them the way of the Lord. They cannot 
conceive how it can be done, or where the man 
they want is to come from. But they know* that 
nothing is too hard for the Lord. He is all-suffi- 
cient, and can do whatsoever he pleases ; " for has 
not Massa Gilbert told them so out of the book ? " 
" Let us tell God about it." " Let us pray to 
we Saviour, as Massa Gilbert tell us. He will find 
de way to help we," is the continual exhortation 
of these two faithful unlettered women. And it 
is not without effect. Although some who had 
been gathered in have fallen away, a goodly num- 
ber are yet in earnest to " flee from the wrath to 
come," and save their souls. Animated by the 
zeal and faith of this devoted couple, they fre- 
quently assemble together for prayer. Often are 
they hindered by the almost incessant toil exacted 
from them on the estates to which they belong as 
slaves, yet as many as can get together continue 
" instant in prayer." Night after night, whenever 
it is practicable, there is a little band, led on by 
these -two faithful slaves, pouring out simple, earn- 
est supplication before God, the burden of which 
is that he will look in pity upon their destitution, 
and send them one like " Massa Gilbert," to break 



Prayer Answered, 19 

to them the bread of life, and help them on in the 
way to heaven. Years roll on, and the answer 
comes not. But still they pray and do not faint. 
Greatly tempted to yield to discouragement, they 
call to mind what the man of God has often told 
them, " that the Lord sometimes tries the faith and 
patience of his people by keeping back for awhile 
the promised blessing which he is sure to bestow 
in the end. Like the woman of Canaan, they cry 
more earnestly, " Lord, help us ! " looking out as 
eagerly as did the prophet on Carmel for the sign 
that their prayer has prevailed. 

It does prevail. The all-merciful One cannot 
turn a deaf ear to importunity like this. It is in 
the designs of his providence to carry on a mighty 
work of grace and salvation from this small be- 
ginning in Antigua. He tries the faith of these 
simple-hearted supplicants for a long season; then 
he sends them the help they pray for. And he 
sends it in a way that no human wisdom could 
have anticipated. 

About this time a want is felt in the dock-yard 
at English Harbor. A master shipwright is re- 
quired to superintend the workmen employed 
upon the ships of war that are brought thither for 
repairs. The skilled workman that is needed is 
not to be found in Antigua. In these times of war, 
operations are carried on upon a large scale in the 
docks at English Harbor, and it is a situation of 
considerable responsibility that has to be filled. 
The skeptic would probably curl his lip in scorn 

at the thought ; but it is the pleading importunity 

2 



20 Romance Without Fiction. 

of these poor praying slave people at Gilbert's that 
influences and decides the filling up of this vacant 
situation at English Harbor. Men often uncon- 
sciously fulfill the Divine purposes when acting 
only with a regard to their own convenience. So 
it is in the present case. There is in the Govern- 
ment service at Chatham a subordinate but clever 
mechanic, who through Methodist agency has been 
won from the world to Christ. Being a man of 
considerable intelligence, and possessing talents 
for usefulness in the Church, he has been appointed 
to fill the offices of class-leader and exhorter. 
Here is the chosen successor to the saintly Gil- 
bert, the man to take up his mantle and enter into 
the evangelical labors from which he had been 
taken away. To him is directed the choice of 
those whose province it is to fill up the vacant 
post at English Harbor. They select him for the 
place because he is an accomplished workman, and 
a man of sober and upright character. But God 
has overruled the selection in his own unerring 
wisdom ; and, all unconscious of the sphere of 
Christian usefulness that is awaiting him at Anti- 
gua, John Baxter accepts the situation, and crosses 
the Atlantic, in direct opposition to the wishes of 
his friends, to undertake the duties that have been 
assigned to him there. 

Mr. Baxter is a devoted man of God, who for 
twelve years has borne the reproach of Methodism. 
He is well fitted, both by nature and grace, for the 
work that lies before him in the service of his 
Divine Master. It soon becomes manifest to him 



Prayer Answered. 2i 

that, in accepting the Government appointment 
that was offered to him, he has been guided by a 
wisdom higher than his own. He has not been 
many hours upon the strange shores before he is 
informed of the work begun by Mr. Gilbert, and 
interrupted by his death. He soon finds out the 
praying remnant of the scattered society, and 
when he begins to speak with them of the things 
of God, they at once recognize in him the man 
whom God has brought to them, in answer to the 
many prayers they have sent up to him, that he 
would give them a teacher to help them in find- 
ing the way to heaven. 

Two days after his arrival, Mr. Baxter begins to 
address the people. It is Saturday night, and 
only a few of the faithful members are present, 
who for years have been longing to hear again the 
voice of a faithful preacher of the word of life. 
How are their spirits gladdened ! How greatly is 
their faith in God confirmed as they listen once 
more to the joyful sound, and look upon the manly 
form of him whom God has brought to their help ! 
They have asked God to send them a teacher of 
his truth, and there he is before them, in their 
eyes the embodiment of the promise fulfilled, 
" Ask, and ye shall receive ! " 

The news spreads rapidly, " A preacher has 
come." On the next day, being Sabbath, some 
hundreds flock to hear the messenger of truth. 
So it is during the following week : whenever he 
preaches, he finds a multitude athirst for the word. 
He accepts the sign. . God has brought him here, 



22 Romance Without Fiction. 

in his wonder-working providence, " to preach the 
Gospel to the poor, to heal the broken-hearted, 
to preach deliverance to the captives, and the 
opening of the prison doors to them that are 
bound." He gives himself heartily to the work, 
rejoicing over many souls awakened and made 
wise unto salvation through his labors. He does 
not abandon or neglect the duties of the secular 
office he was sent out to fulfill. On the contrary, 
he commands the respect and confidence of all 
with whom he is connected by uncompromising 
diligence and fidelity. But on the Sabbath, and 
very frequently on week evenings, he preaches to 
anxious multitudes the Gospel of salvation. 

He does not labor in vain. His heart is cheered 
by glorious success. Many a dark mind is il- 
luminated; many a sin-hardened heart melted 
down into true penitence under the power of the 
word. Week after week his soul is cheered by 
seeing sinners converted from the error of their 
way. The classes which had been scattered are 
gathered again. Other classes are formed ; and 
the planters are as much astonished as the Jews 
were when God through Peter granted unto the 
Gentiles repentance unto life, at seeing religion 
powerfully spreading, and producing all its gracious 
fruit among the negro slaves. They have been 
accustomed to look upon these unfortunate chil- 
dren of oppression as no more capable of religious 
instruction than their cattle and their mules. 

Success itself becomes in time a source of em- 
barrassment. Soon after Mr. Baxter's arrival he 



Prayer Answered, 23 

had written to Mr. Wesley, " The old standers de- 
sire that I would inform you that you have many 
children in Antigua whom you never saw." A 
year later he writes : " Six hundred of them (the 
negroes) have joined the society ; and, if using the 
means of grace be any proof, we may conclude 
they are in earnest. Some of them come three 
or four miles after the labors of the day, that they 
may be present at eight o'clock to hear the word; 
and on Sundays many come nine or ten miles bare- 
footed to meet their classes." Mr. Baxter is in 
labors abundant. Every evening, after the duties 
of the day are over, this devoted servant of Christ 
rides to one of the plantations where the required 
permission has been granted, to meet with and 
preach to the people there, and then returns home 
to be ready for the secular duties of the morrow. 
The entire Sabbath is devoted to ministerial work. 
It is very desirable Jhat a preacher be sent from 
home to take charge of the growing Church ; that, 
however, is impracticable, or the zeal of John 
Wesley would have led him favorably to respond 
to the appeals addressed to him on this sub- 
ject. 

But the work is the Lord's, and he fails not to 
provide for it. When Mr. Baxter is well-nigh 
overwhelmed with the care of this expanding 
cause, another member of the Gilbert family, or 
one bearing the same name, is sent to his aid. A 
Mrs. Gilbert has claims upon a plantation in Anti- 
gua, and failing to receive her annuity regularly, 
she is compelled to visit the West Indies. She 



24 Romance Without Fiction. 

% 

has been a member of the Methodist Society in 
England when it was a sect every-where spoken 
against, and when it required both resolution and 
fortitude to be identified with it. On her arrival 
in Antigua she sees and acknowledges the hand 
of the Lord in bringing her to this far-off land 
that she may render much-needed aid to a faithful 
servant of his master, who, like Issachar, " is crouch- 
ing down under two burdens," either of which is 
quite sufficient for any man to bear. This Chris- 
tian lady enters cheerfully and energetically into 
the work, recognizing the leadings of the cloud 
that has conducted her to the sunny land. " Had 
the estate," she observed, " regularly paid my an- 
nuity, I should have rested in my native clime, and 
quietly enjoyed those means of grace which I so 
highly prize ; but God hath his way in the whirlwind. 
I did not know that he had any thing for me to do 
in his vineyard, nor could I suppose that he would 
use so mean an instrument. But my work was pro- 
vided. Immediately on my arrival I was called 
on to supply those deficiencies which the secular 
affairs of Mr. Baxter rendered unavoidable." 

The help thus providentially sent to Mr. Bax- 
ter affords temporary relief, but soon greatly in- 
creases the trouble and difficulty. This Christian 
lady opens her house to all that will attend at family 
prayer every davj and once in every week for the 
reading of the Scriptures. Both whites and blacks 
attend in considerable numbers, and a new im- 
pulse is given to the soul-saving work. The so- 
cieties largely increase, and the pressure of duty 



Prayer Answered. 25 

, and responsibility becomes heavier than it has 
ever been before. One urgent application after 
another is sent to Mr. Wesley. But, though 
earnestly desirous of sending the much-required 
help, he is unable to do so. God, however, is 
mindful of the work that is turning many to right- 
eousness, and again answers prayer in sending help 
to those faithful laborers. Driven by stress of 
weather to the shores of Antigua, a ship drops her 
anchor in the harbor that has on board a Meth- 
odist family bound to the plantations in Virginia. 
They have been unscrupulously imposed upon, and 
shamefully treated by the captain ; so that when 
the vessel, after thirteen weeks' contention with 
the elements, is compelled to put into Antigua, 
where the sufferings they have endured are 
made known, they are advised by kind and sym- 
pathizing friends whom they meet among the 
Methodists to leave her. The same friends also 
raise a subscription to pay for their passage, and 
set them free from the power of the tyrant into 
whose hands they have unhappily fallen. The 
father of the family is an old man, who has been 
for some years a devoted member of the Meth- 
odist Society at Waterford, in Ireland. His two 
sons, both of them grown-up men, soon find em- 
ployment suited to their condition and capacities, 
one at the dock-yard, and the other on a planta- 
tion. The old man displays gifts and piety that 
render him a valuable helper to Mr. Baxter and 
Mrs. Gilbert : and, thus strengthened, the work 
spreads and grows more and more, 



26 Romance Without Fiction. 

Eight years have elapsed since Mr. Baxter en- 
tered into the labors of the lamented Gilbert. ' 
They have been years of toil and anxiety, and yet 
of joy and triumph. Every year has witnessed 
considerable accessions to the number of those 
who have experienced the saving power of Divine 
grace. A chapel has been erected in the principal 
town of the island, in which a large number of all 
classes in the community assemble every Sab- 
bath to worship God and hear the truth as it is in 
Jesus. The societies, that numbered about two 
hundred when Mr. Gilbert was so mysteriously 
taken from their head, have now increased to over 
two thousand. " I find it hard to flesh and blood," 
says Mr. Baxter in a letter to Mr. Wesley, " to 
work all day and then ride ten miles into the 
country at night to preach." The need for minis- 
terial help has become almost overwhelming. 
Neither Mr. Baxter, who has taken to himself a 
wife that is a true helpmeet, nor Mrs. Gilbert, 
who devotes all her time and energies to the cause, 
can hope to hold out long under this severe and 
continually increasing pressure. There seems to 
be no help in man. Even the large warm heart of 
John Wesley fails them ; for, in the multiplicity of 
his labors and advancing infirmities of age, he can 
find no means of furnishing the aid he earnestly 
desires to afford to the little Methodist flock in 
the isles of the sea. 

But it is now remembered how prayer once be- 
fore moved the Lord's hand to send help in the 
time of need. When the society was scattered 



Prayer Answered. 27 

after the death of Mr. Gilbert, the earnest interces- 
sions of a faithful few prevailed with God, and he 
took a man from the dock-yard at Chatham, and 
brought him to the bereaved flock, to become their 
pastor and instructor in divine things. " The 
Lord's hand is not shortened, neither is his ear 
heavy." He can find the means of supplying 
their great want. All along Mr. Baxter and Mrs. 
Gilbert have been praying that some faithful la- 
borers might be sent to assist them in the great 
work. But now the whole Church is stirred up 
with themselves to more special pleading with God 
on this behalf. Week after week meetings are 
held in the chapel and on the plantations for this 
purpose ; and God is earnestly entreated to send 
forth laborers into this field, where the harvest is 
already great. 

They do not pray in vain. As in the former 
instance, prayer is heard and answered, and in a 
way that wondrously displays the all-prevailing, 
all-controlling, providence of God ; showing how 
He who hears the prayers of the faithful has " his 
way in the whirlwind," riding " upon the heavens " 
in their help, and " in his excellency on the sky." 

It is in the autumn of 1786 — when for several 
years earnest and united prayer has been going up 
to heaven from the widely scattered societies in 
Antigua, that God would send them ministers to 
meet the demands for instruction of the scattered 
and increasing congregations — that Dr. Coke em- 
barks at Gravesend with a band of missionaries. 
The three companions of the good doctor are 



28 Romance Without Fiction. 

fs'srs. Warrener, Hammett, and Clarke. They 
are bound to Nova Scotia, where a Wesleyan 
Mission has been commenced, and a reinforcement 
of missionary laborers is required to meet the de- 
mands of the growing work. Appointed by the 
conference to go to British North America, they 
have no thought about the West Indies and the 
praying people there ; nor have they the slightest 
expectation of ever visiting those sunny regions of 
the West. But " the steps of a good man are or- 
dered by the Lord," and he directs and over- 
rules all human events for the accomplishment 
of his own wise purposes. There are prayers reg- 
istered in heaven which are to influence their 
movements, and give their voyage a direction al- 
together unexpected. 

On the 24th of September the missionary band 
join the ship which is to be, much longer than 
they anticipated, their home upon the deep, and 
they commence their voyage under circumstances 
not the most auspicious. Their course down the 
Channel is both rough and dangerous. A storm of 
unusual severity and duration assails the vessel, 
during which their safety is imperiled by collision 
with a sloop ; and they also narrowly escape the 
danger of being run down by a large frigate, driven 
by the fury of the tempest across their path. 
Battered and tossed about for many days at the 
mercy of the elements, it is not until the end of 
the third week that they are able to pass the Land's 
End, and fairly stretch out into the wide and 
angry Atlantic. 



Prayer Answered. 29 

But this is only the beginning of sorrows to the 
tempest-tossed voyagers. They encounter a 
succession of fierce gales day after day, causing 
the waters to rise and swell into waves of mount- 
ainous dimensions, and driving them far out of the 
course they want to pursue. After nine weeks of 
this rough kind of life a greater peril threatens 
them, for the ship is found to have sprung a dan- 
gerous leak, and it is with difficulty the water can 
be kept Under by the constant use of the pumps. 
Before effectual . measures can be adopted to 
remedy this evil a fierce whirling tempest, worse 
than any thing they have encountered before, 
comes upon them, and the vessel is in imminent 
danger of foundering. Axes are in readiness to 
cut away the masts, and both crew and passengers 
feel that there is but a step between them and 
eternity. Great are the searchings of heart which 
these continuous perils cause in the missionary 
band. But they know in whom they have be- 
lieved ; and, raised above all anxious fear, they 
feel, with the apostle, " For to me to live is Christ, 
and to die is gain." 

It is one of the aggravations of their condition 
that the commander of the vessel that is bearing 
them over the sea is, like too many more of his 
class, ignorant, surly, and brutal, and the slave of 
a vulgar superstition. Owing probably to a mis- 
understanding of Jonah's history, the superstitious 
notion is held by many whose business leads them 
to go down to the sea in ships, that the presence 
of a minister of religion on board brings bad luck 



30 Romance Without Fiction. 

to a ship's crew. The captain is one of these, and 
every disaster that occurs on the voyage is by him 
attributed to the influence of the missionaries on 
board the vessel. From the beginning he has 
looked with a strong feeling of dislike upon these 
men of God, and every fresh trouble that occurs 
adds to the gloom and surliness of his disposition. 
The more they pray the worse becomes the 
weather, in the captain.'s opinion, and the greater 
the danger to the ship. At length the brute in 
him becomes so thoroughly aroused that he is on 
the point of imitating the conduct of the mariners 
in the case of Jonah, by throwing Dr. Coke over- 
board, to propitiate the angry spirits of the deep. 
Though restrained from proceeding to this ex- 
tremity, he assails the doctor with personal vio- 
lence, administering sundry cuffs and kicks, and 
in his frenzy seizing upon some of the books and 
papers that overspread the table in the doctor's 
cabin and hurling them into the sea. These 
surly humors and proceedings of the captain do 
not by any means add to the comfort of the mis- 
sionary travelers ; but they endure them patiently, 
as they do the other evils and discomforts of a 
miserable voyage, rejoicing that they are not only 
called to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, but 
also to suffer for his sake. 

The captain's ebullitions of violent temper bring 
no improvement of the weather. For sixty-eight 
days, with scarcely any intermission, they have 
been driven about by the fury of the elements, often 
at their wits' end, and seemingly ready to perish. 



Prayer Answered. 31 

As yet there is no improvement. On the sixty- 
ninth day they are in the midst of a violent hurri- 
cane. The ship is thrown on her beam ends, and 
the passengers are crying out, " Pray for us, doc- 
tor, for we are just gone." But the Lord inter- 
poses, as he has done many times before when 
they seemed to be in the last extremity, and by 
the blowing away of the sails the ship is relieved 
from her imminent danger, and they drive before 
the terrible gale with bare spars until its violence 
has in some degree expended itself. The provis- 
ions are now getting low, and the water supply is 
beginning to fail ; for it will soon be three months 
since they left the Thames. Xor is there the 
slightest prospect of a favorable change in the 
weather. 

In these circumstances the captain summons a 
sort of council from among the passengers to con- 
sider what is best to be done. The ship is in bad 
condition and very leaky, owing to her fierce and 
protracted conflict with the elements, and he ex- 
presses it as his opinion that it is hopeless to at- 
tempt to reach Halifax in the face of such stormy 
weather as they have encountered for so many 
weeks; and even with fine weather the provisions 
would not hold out for the voyage. With one 
consent it is determined, as that which seems to be 
most practicable, to give up the attempt to reach 
Nova Scotia and shape their course to the West 
Indies. The sails are 'altered accordingly; they 
direct their course in a more southerly direction, 
and a few days suffice to carry them out of the 



32 Romance Without Fiction. 

region of storm and tempests. A clear blue sky 
is now above them, and the water is comparatively 
smooth. A favorable breeze bears them swiftly on 
their course. The cold chills of winter speedily 
change to a balmy summer temperature. A 
tropical bird hovers about the ship ; and after the 
lapse of eleven days from the time they turned 
their vessel's prow toward the West Indies they 
discover land. It proves to be the island of An- 
tigua, and early on the morning of the 25th of De- 
cember, to the great joy of all on board, they find 
themselves in the pleasant land-inclosed harbor 
of St. John. 

As soon as the anchor is dropped Dr. Coke and 
his companions go ashore, with the view of in- 
quiring for Mr. Baxter, of whose labors and suc- 
cesses in Antigua Dr. Coke is not entirely ignorant. 
In passing along the street from the landing-place 
one of the first persons they fall in with is Mr. 
Baxter himself, on his way to the chapel to cele- 
brate the public services of the Christmas festival. 
The joy of the meeting is great on both sides, 
though for widely different reasons. Dr. Coke 
and his fellow-voyagers rejoice that they have 
been thus graciously delivered from the perils of 
the sea. With Mr. Baxter there is joy in that God 
has answered prayer and sent the help so long de- 
sired. Upon the doctor devolves the services of 
the day. Thrice to large and attentive audiences 
does he hold forth the word of life, and declare 
the wonders of that love of God which spared not 
his own Son, but delivered him up for us all. 



Prayer Answered, 33 

But who shall describe the gladness of the peo- 
ple, or tell of the confirmation given to their faith 
in God by this impressive and wonderful answer 
to their prayers ? For months, for years, they h .we 
been pleading with God in earnest supplication 
that, as he sent Mr. Baxter to their aid when they 
prayed so earnestly in that behalf, so now he 
would by some means, not difficult to heavenly 
wisdom to discover, send them ministers to be 
their instructors and guides in the way of life. 
And, lo ! the answer has come. While they have 
been praying God has heard them, and in his own 
wise and perfect way has been working for them, 
and giving such a direction to passing events as to 
fulfill the desire of their hearts. There they are ; 
the very men they have wanted ! the very men 
they have prayed for! brought, contrary to their 
own wishes and in opposition to their most 
strenuous efforts, across the broad stormy ocean 
to Antigua ; faithful ministers of the Gospel of 
peace ! What a wonderful proof is this of the 
power of prayer, and what an encouragement in 
every thing to make known their wishes unto 
God ! Prayer has raised up the stormy wind and 
lashed the ocean waves into fury to drive these 
men of God far from their intended course and 
bring them to a strange land, a land altogether far 
from their thoughts, there to find a people pre- 
pared of the Lord for their evangelical labors, and 
to gather, in an unexpected field, a precious har- 
vest of immortal souls. 

Nor do the missionary band fail to consider the 



34 Romance Without Fiction. 

works of the Lord and regard the operation of his 
hands. When they look at the work of the Lord 
that for twenty-six years has been going on in the 
colony, first through the labors of Mr. Gilbert, and 
then through the agency of Mr. Baxter; when 
they observe the proportions to which it has 
grown, and learn how for several years the people 
have been besieging the throne of grace with 
prayer that he would send them help they cannot 
obtain from man, they see clearly the hand of the 
Lord in all that has befallen them. In answer to 
the prayers of the earnest, simple people in Anti- 
gua, he has commissioned the fierce storm and 
tempest to assail them on their way, and thus ren- 
dered it impracticable for them to reach the country 
to which they were bound. While their lives have 
been precious in his sight, and he has preserved 
them in the manifold perils of their protracted 
voyage, he has driven them away from their in- 
tended course and brought them, by a way they 
knew not, and by a path they have not known, 
to the very island and into the very port where 
there is a people prepared of the Lord, and hun- 
gering for that bread of life which they can break 
unto them. Their own purposes and wishes have 
been overruled and baffled, and they have been 
guided through the darkness and the danger by a 
wisdom superior to their own. 

The idea of proceeding to Nova Scotia is at 
once abandoned by the missionaries. Here is a 
field open to them, and it is surely the hand of the 
Lord that has guided their course hither. The 



Prayer Answered. 35 

cloud of Divine Providence has so manifestly led 
the way, that they at once resolve to accept and 
enter upon the work which lies before them. 
Apart from the white population there are in the 
several islands that pertain to the British crown at 
least a million in whose veins flows the blood of 
Africa, from the fair Mestafma, only one sixteenth 
black, or the olive Quadroon, to the jetty, full- 
blooded Negroes, stolen by thousands from their 
own sunburnt shores to till the lands of the stran- 
ger. And for the souls of all these multitudes no 
man cares. Classed with the unintelligent brute, 
they are by their owners, and by those to whom 
their owners look as religious instructors, shut out, 
so far as man can do it, from the blessings of re- 
demption, and left, without an effort to save them, 
to perish in their sins. Here is the work to 
which the Lord has called them. The results of 
Mr. Gilbert's and Mr. Baxter's labors have dem- 
onstrated, not only that the black man has a 
soul that is capable of being saved equally with 
that of the man of fairer hue, but that he is also 
capable of exhibiting in his life and conversation 
all the heavenly dispositions, and all the exalted 
graces and beauties of Christian holiness. Here, 
therefore, it is resolved that they shall stay, and 
toil in the field which God has opened to. them 
ready for a glorious harvest. 

By this opportune arrival of the missionaries 
not only is Antigua supplied with the pastoral 
help it needed so much, but provision is made for 
the extension of the work to other parts of the 



36 Romance Without Fiction, 

West Indies. St. Vincent, Dominica, St. Eustatius, 
St. Kitt's, Jamaica, soon receive the Gospel, 
carried thither by Wesleyan missionaries ; and ul- 
timately this work of God extends over all the 
islands under the British crown. Other mission- 
aries are sent out as the spreading work demands 
their services. Mr. Baxter sees it his duty to 
give up the lucrative situation held by him in the 
dock-yard, and devote himself to the full mission- 
ary work. And many souls, rescued from dark- 
ness and sin, pass away to the skies, to swell the 
great multitude before the throne gathered out 
of every nation and people and kindred and 
tongue. 

" See how great a flame aspires, 
Kindled by a spark of grace ! " 

How little did Mr. Gilbert dream, when he first 
stood up with fear and trembling to speak to a few 
of his own family and dependents about the com- 
mon salvation, of the extent to which the work he 
was commencing would grow. Little did he sup- 
pose that he was laying the foundation of a mission 
destined to prosper until Churches should be 
planted in all the islands of the Caribbean Sea, 
and tens of thousand of souls, recovered by the 
instrumentality of the preached word, should be 
made meet for the inheritance of the saints in 
light. And far, very far, was it from his thoughts, 
that in introducing to the Western Archipelago 
the Gospel as known and preached by the Meth- 
odists, he was lighting up a flame that would ulti- 



Prayer Answered. 37 

mately melt the chains of the slave, thus wiping 
off the foulest blot that ever stained the escutcheon 
of Christian Britain. Yet so it was. Mr. Gilbert, 
the planter and slaveholder, was God's chosen in- 
strument to initiate a work of grace and salvation 
that has brought peace and joy and hope into 
thousands of families, saved a multitude of souls, 
and proclaimed liberty to those who, held in 
slavery under the British flag, were groaning under 
the lash and plundered of all that is dear to man. 

For more than a century the work of God 
through Methodist agency has now been going on 
in the western isles of the sea, unchecked by op- 
pressive and persecuting laws, or by the frequent 
imprisonment of missionaries, or the brutal violence 
of mobs ; and numerous Churches have grown up, 
against which the gates of hell have not prevailed. 
The Wesleyan Mission has had its martyrs too, who 
have died under the whip or through cruel impris- 
onment, and it has rejoiced in examples of Chris- 
tian heroism and devotedness to God worthy of 
apostolic times. May the word of the Lord have 
free course and be glorified until all the isles of 
the sea and all the continents of the earth shall 
hear the life-giving sound, and the world be full of 
the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the 
sea! 



38 Romance Without Fiction. 



II. 

The Famine of the Word. 

Sad are the sorrows that oftentimes come, 

Heavy and dull, and blighting and chill, 
Shutting- the light from our heart and our home, 

Marring our hopes and defjing our will. 
But let us not sink beneath the woe — 

Tis well, perchance, we are tried and bowed ; 
For be sure though we may not oft see it below, 

" There's a silvery lining to every cloud. 11 — Eliza Cook. 

r HE eye that surveys Jamaica from the sea 
j^L\ rests upon a scene of surpassing grandeur. 
Clothed with perennial verdure, the range of 
mountains extending from east to west forms the 
great backbone of the island. Sloping gradually to 
the sea on either side, they tower to the clouds,' in 
which their summits are frequently shrouded ; 
while at other times their perfect outline, strongly 
marked against the clear, cloudless azure of a 
tropical sky, and seen through a calm, pellucid 
atmosphere, from a distance of forty or fifty miles, 
exhibits that beautiful, soft, dark-blue appearance 
which secured for them the designation of " the 
Blue Mountains.'' From the vast reservoirs 
which these majestic mountains embosom flow 
innumerable streams, often seen winding, like a 
silver thread, through the deep ravines, until their 
waters unite in a river of considerable magnitude, 
imparting unbounded fertility to the soil, and pro- 



The Famine of the Word. 39 

ducing a luxuriance of vegetable life of which the 
denizens of more temperate zones can scarcely 
form an adequate conception. And it is always 
so. In these regions, where the icy grasp of win- 
ter is unknown and the evergreen cocoa-nut and 
cabbage-palms exhibit their lofty plumes in un- 
changing beauty, and the paroquet and tiny hum- 
ming-bird flit about, where little change of tem- 
perature is experienced from January to De- 
cember, we find the type of that better land — that 
uncorrupted paradise — 

" Where everlasting spring abides, 
And never-withering flowers." 

There stands in the center of Kingston, the com- 
mercial capital of this large and lovely island, a com- 
modious place of worship, with a missionaries' resi- 
dence under the same roof. It was originally the 
mansion of one of the city magnates. Partly 
through the contributions obtained by Dr. Coke 
in England and in the Island, and partly out of 
his own private fortune, which was never spared 
in God's cause, this convenient locality, with the 
buildings upon it, has been secured for the mis- 
sion service, and adapted to the twofold purpose 
it is required to serve. The ground floor furnishes 
ample accommodation for a large family, with an 
extensive band-room attached. The upper part 
forms a commodious chapel, having a low gallery 
running partly around it. When completely filled 
this sanctuary receives fifteen hundred or sixteen 
hundred persons ; while the band-room, from 



40 Romance Without Fiction. 

which a broad staircase affords access to the 
chapel and a view of the pulpit and the preacher, 
will allow three hundred more from below to listen 
to the word of life. 

God has hallowed this spot by making it the 
birthplace of many souls. Through his blessing 
on his truth nearly six hundred, in addition to 
those who have passed away to join the assem- 
bly before the throne, have been born to glory 
here, and now form a flourishing and increasing 
Church. Many of these are free colored and 
black people, formerly sadly ^debased by igno- 
rance and vice. But not a few are slaves, who, 
while wearing the chains of an earthly owner, and 
degraded into chattels, have been brought, through 
the mighty energy of the Gospel, into spiritual 
liberty and elevated to the dignity of children 
and heirs of God. The blessed work still goes 
on, and souls, made wise unto salvation through 
faith in the crucified One, are being continually 
added to the Church. 

When God works in saving men Satan rages, 
and his agents also become active to hinder or 
destroy the truth. Attempts have already been 
made by the legislative authorities, who are all 
slaveholders, to place insuperable barriers in the 
way of the instruction of the negroes and harass 
their teachers, and, if possible, drive them from 
the land. But the vigilance of Dr. Coke and the 
tolerant spirit prevailing in his Majesty's councils 
have hitherto rendered these efforts abortive, or 
prevented them from producing more than tern- 



The Famine of the Word, 41 

porary embarrassment and injury, inasmuch as the 
intolerant enactments of the local Legislature have 
been uniformly disallowed by the home Govern- 
ment. 

But during the time these persecuting laws were 
suffered to come into operation, pending the de- 
cision of the Imperial Government concerning 
them, several missionaries have experienced the 
rigors of a Jamaica jail, and some of them, with 
health broken by persecution, or to avoid the 
penalty of perpetual imprisonment incurred by 
preaching to congregations comprising slaves, 
have been compelled to depart from the colony. 
Mob violence has also done its evil work. But 
that has been considerably checked by a startling 
event, which, for a season, made a powerful im- 
pression on many thoughtless minds. A fierce 
opposer of the missionaries, named Taylor, noto- 
rious for his profaneness and profligate habits, 
made several unsuccessful attempts to break up 
the congregation and injure the preacher. At 
this time, the chapel not having as yet been ob- 
tained, the people were accustomed to assemble in 
a private house in the lower part of the city, which 
could contain only a small portion of those who 
flocked to hear the truth. Many, therefore, were 
compelled to sit or stand both in the front and at 
the back of the premises. The persecutor having 
one evening, with his vicious companions, been 
foiled in the attempt to break up the meeting and 
hinder the service from going on, took his depart- 
ure, giving utterance to a profane oath that he 



42 Romance Without Fiction. 

would come next Monday with his companions on 
horseback and " gallop over the crowd till he had 
trampled the accursed Methodists down to hell. ,, 
But God was beforehand with the blasphemer. 
At the very same hour the following Monday, 
when the people, many of them with great fear 
and trembling, were gathering, as usual, to wor- 
ship God, the corpse of the persecutor, followed 
by many of the abettors of his wickedness, was 
borne to the church-yard for interment. God had 
smitten him down with fever. For some years 
after this a salutary dread of the Almighty arm, 
which had been so impressively uplifted, modified 
the rage of the persecutors. 

But the work is growing, and it must be stopped ; 
for, say some, " People cannot pass through the 
streets of the city without being annoyed by sing- 
ing and prayer." "These Methodists are at it all 
night; the orderly inhabitants cannot rest in their 
beds without being disturbed." " It must be put 
an end to." How to accomplish this is the ques- 
tion. Mob violence will not do : that has been 
tried, and it only makes the matter worse ; for the 
more the Methodists are opposed in this way the 
more they seem to increase. And, through the 
representations of parties in England, the home 
Government disallow every bill passed by the local- 
Legislature to prevent " this preaching and psalm- 
singing and teaching religion to slaves." "What 
can be done ? " " How shall we silence or get 
rid of these troublesome Methodists, or keep our 
slaves away from them ? " 



The Famine of the Word. 43 

There is great perplexity among the religion- 
hating clique. At length a bright and lucky 
thought suggests itself to the mind of one of the 
persecutors. " The Common Council can do it.-" 
True, the corporation cannot stop the preaching 
in the country parishes, for their authority is lim- 
ited to the city, and the Government in London 
are sure to reject and neutralize any law of the 
island containing clauses to that effect. But the 
missionaries can be silenced in the city, which is 
the head-quarters of the fraternity. With this new 
light upon the subject there is soon to be ob- 
served great activity among the enemies of the 
truth ; frequent meetings are held, and rumors 
begin to circulate that evil is impending over the 
Methodists. The Common Council possess au- 
thority from their charter to frame such ordi- 
nances as they may see fit for the maintenance of 
order and good government within the city, and 
that authority (whether legitimately or otherwise 
it matters little) may be made to cover such 
measures as are necessary to put an end to " this 
nuisance of praying and preaching," 

At the next meeting of the City Council there 
is a large gathering of the members. Lawyers 
have left their offices and merchants have de- 
serted their counting-houses to be present, for 
the purpose to be accomplished is felt to be one 
of great interest and importance. The mission- 
aries have heard something of the conspiracy 
formed to deprive them and their people of relig- 
ious rights, and they also are alert to meet the 



44 Romance Without Fiction. 

crisis. But it is in vain they present themselves 
with a petition, and request to be heard against 
the passing of the contemplated ordinance. In 
vain they endeavor to secure such a modification 
of its worst provisions as will leave the people, 
who love the truth, some small remnant of liberty 
to worship God and hear his word. A few of the 
members of the Board are somewhat dubious con- 
cerning their right to enact such a law; but only 
one gentleman has courage openly to resist the 
meditated oppression. He unhesitatingly ex- 
presses it as his opinion that " not only is it 
wrong thus to trample upon the consciences and 
restrict the religious liberties of the Methodist 
people, but the corporation possesses no legal au- 
thority for taking such a course." Intolerance 
and wickedness are, however, permitted for a sea- 
son to triumph. Yet there is a boundless Wisdom 
at work in these things, accomplishing its own 
purposes, and bringing much good out of the ap- 
parent evil. 

The ordinance is passed by an overwhelming 
majority, and there is in it much of the subtlety 
of the old serpent. No religious service of any 
kind is permitted to be held in the city after sun- 
set, or before six o'clock in the morning, under 
penalty of ^ioo for each offense, or three months' 
imprisonment in the common jail, the occupier 
of the premises used for such service being also 
liable to the same penalty. And at other times 
no person is to " presume to teach or preach, or 
expound the Holy Scriptures, or offer up public 



The Famine of the Word. 45 

prayer, or sing psalms in any meeting or assembly 
of negroes or persons of color, not being duly au- 
thorized, qualified, or permitted ;" the city magis- 
trates, who passed the ordinance, reserving to 
themselves the sole right of judging concerning 
such qualification, and of giving or withholding 
the required authority or permission. 

The effect of this ordinance, which comes into 
immediate operation, is at once to cut off nearly 
the. whole of the unfortunate slaves from receiving 
any instruction whatever ; for there can be no re- 
ligious service held, except on the Sabbath, be- 
tween sunrise and sunset ; and the Sabbath is not 
theirs, nor a single hour of it, apart from the will 
of their owners. No law recognizes their right, or 
gives them opportunity, to keep holy the Sabbath 
day. They are absolutely under the control of 
their owners, and have no right except to labor, 
suffer, and die. The free colored and black peo- 
ple can assemble and join in the public worship 
of God, and hear words whereby they may be 
saved ; for as yet the attempt may not be pru- 
dently and safely made to deprive them of the 
Methodist services altogether. There are some 
among the city magistrates who do not heartily 
approve of the persecuting ordinance, and one 
who is strongly opposed to it. It will not, there- 
fore, be good policy to push matters to an ex- 
tremity too suddenly, lest inconvenient opposition 
should be aroused in their own body. But the 
purpose of the persecutors is to put a stop to the 
Methodist preaching and praying entirely; and 



46 Romance Without Fiction. 

assuredly it must be done. It is only a question 
of time, and the desired opportunity at length 
presents itself. 

It is a day of gladness at the Coke Chapel Mis- 
sion house. The hearts of the harassed mission- 
aries, already in the field, have been cheered by 
the arrival of a fresh band of laborers from Eu- 
rope, consisting of three missionaries and the wife 
of one of the number, after a long and tempestu- 
ous passage across the Atlantic. Such an event 
is always a gladsome one to the toil-worn ministers 
of the cross in a far-off land, especially when, as 
here, they have to prosecute their labors in the 
midst of great difficulties, and in the face of re- 
proach and persecution. It is the evening of the 
day on which the new comers have landed, glad 
to be released from a tedious and uncomfortable 
confinement in the ship. They and the brethren 
who have welcomed them to the slave-land form a 
pleasant party. But little does it enter into the 
anticipations of any one among them that, within 
the lapse of a week, having only preached one 
sermon to the people among whom he hopes to 
prosecute a long and useful course of hallowed toil, 
that young missionary, whose countenance glows 
with the bloom of lusty health, and whose limbs 
are nerved with the vigor of youthful manhood, 
will, together with his young and lovely wife, be 
sleeping in the grave. Yet so it is to be. In the 
inscrutable arrangements of an unerring Provi- 
dence, both of them, suddenly swept away from 
their labors, and from life, by yellow fever, before 



The Famine of the Word. 47 

the week has elapsed, pass away in the same 
night, and enter with glorious triumph their Fa- 
ther's house above. 

But no thought of this enters the mind of any 
of that happy group, which embraces all. the mis- 
sionaries in the island. And it is well that a thick 
and impenetrable vail does conceal the future from 
our view, or how much more frequently would the 
enjoyments of life be marred ! 

The young missionary and his wife who are so 
soon to join the upper choir are found to possess 
voices of more than ordinary sweetness and power, 
and are well skilled in the beautiful melodies pop- 
ular in the Methodist churches in England. It is 
with these delightful remembrances of home that 
the party is occupied, voices and spirits blending 
in sweetest harmony, and attracting many outside 
to listen to the pleasing sound. The evening 
speeds on, and they 

" Forget 
All time, and toil, and care." 

Not one of them observes that the dial indicates a 
quarter of an hour passed beyond those limits 
within which it is the will and pleasure of the 
Common Council that psalms and hymns may be 
sung or prayer offered in the district under their 
control. They are suddenly and disagreeably re- 
minded of the fact by the unceremonious intrusion 
of a police officer, accompanied by one of the city 
magistrates, and a party of the town guard. By 
these rude and unwelcome visitors Messrs. Gil- 
grass and Knowlan, the resident missionaries, are 



48 Romance Without Fiction. 

taken into custody and marched off at. once to the 
cage. On the next day the younger of the two is 
released, but Mr. Gilgrass, as the occupier of the 
Mission house, being held guilty of violating the 
city ordinance, is sentenced to expiate the crime 
of singing Methodist hymns by a month's impris- 
onment in the city jail. The excellent wife of the 
culprit is permitted, as an act of special grace on 
the part of the civic dignitaries, to share her hus- 
band's punishment. 

At the end of the specified time the persecuted 
missionary comes forth from his prison cell to find 
that another and a heavier blow has been struck 
at the cause of truth by the heartless oppressors 
of the slave. Three years have elapsed since the 
last intolerant law enacted by the island legislative 
authorities ceased to operate, in consequence of 
its disallowance by the sovereign in council, and 
now another attempt is made to prevent mission- 
ary instruction being given to the slaves. In hope 
of being able to elude the vigilance of the friends 
of missions in England, the Legislature, sanctioned 
in their oppressive policy by Sir Eyre Coote, the 
governor, (such men deserve all the immortality 
which the press can give to their evil works,) have 
embodied in an act entitled " The Consolidated 
Slave Law," several clauses intended to shut up 
the negro in hopeless ignorance, by preventing 
the Christian missionary from approaching him 
with the word of life. This wicked law subjects 
" every Methodist missionary, or other sectary or 
preacher," who shall presume to instruct the 



The Famine of the Word. 49 

slaves, or receive them into their " houses, chap- 
els, or conventicles, of any sort or description," to 
a fine of " twenty pounds for every slave found to 
have been there," or " perpetual imprisonment 
until such fines are paid." 

Such a persecuting enactment is not more likely 
to receive the approval of the king in council than 
others of a similar character which have preceded 
it, and have been disallowed, if its true character 
and tendency become known. It is not likely to 
escape the observation of the watchful friends of 
the slave, that this act is intended to impart greater 
intensity to the oppression that crushes him down, 
and the designs of its originators w T ill be baffled. 
But their evil purposes will be so far accomplished 
that the act will come into operation for some 
time, pending the decision of the home Govern- 
ment concerning it. Thus an opportunity and 
pretext will be given for working great annoyance 
and injury to the missionaries and their flocks 
during many months that must elapse before the 
fate of the bill can be officially made known. 
The result soon becomes apparent. It is not pos- 
sible to keep the negroes out of the chapels when 
they are opened for public service, and to avoid 
the penalty of perpetual imprisonment — since it is 
not practicable for them to pay the fines imposed 
by the new law — the missionaries are compelled 
for the present to desist from their public labors. 
Excepting that in the city, all the chapels in the 
islands are closed, and cease to echo the voice 
of prayer and praise, and the proclamation of 



50 Romance Without Fiction. 

mercy and salvation to the peeled and plundered 
slaves. 

Coke Chapel still resounds with the delightful 
exercise of Christian worship. This privilege, 
however, is secured to some of the free popula- 
tion only by the harsh precaution of placing per- 
sons at each door of the building to prevent the 
entrance of any unfortunate slave. It is often 
touching and heartrending in the extreme to hear 
the pleadings and remonstrances of these deeply- 
wronged children of Africa, thus driven from- the 
footstool of God. They can scarcely be made to 
understand the cruel necessity that exists of ex- 
cluding them from the holy place without such 
explanations being entered into as would lay open 
the person giving them to the capital charge of 
constructive treason. It is a capital crime to ren- 
der slaves dissatisfied w r ith their condition or with 
the law. But thus it must be until the dawning of 
better times, or the sanctuary must be altogether 
closed. Nor is it long before this further great 
w r rong is also perpetrated, and the voice of the 
preacher is hushed, and there is silence in the 
house of the Lord. 

The enemies of religion in the city have merely 
waited for the opportunity of conveniently accom- 
plishing their evil purposes, and now the time has 
arrived. A few weeks only have elapsed since the 
infamous " consolidated slave law " came into 
operation, shutting up all the chapels in the rural 
districts, when the missionaries in Kingston are 
summoned before their old adversaries of the Com- 



The Famine of the Word. 5 1 

mon Council, to show their qualification and author- 
ity for preaching in the city. Exhibiting certifi- 
cates which show that they have taken the oaths 
and subscribed the declarations required by the 
toleration laws of England, they claim to be duly 
qualified ; but are met with the inquiry, " What 
are the laws of England to us ? " They are then 
informed that they will be allowed to preach no 
more, under the heavy penalties specified in the 
city ordinance, until they are duly licensed by 
the magistrates of the city. 

A respectful application is then and there made 
to the bench for such a license as the magistrates 
consider to be necessary ; which calls forth the 
peremptory response, " Indeed, you will not get 
one." Thus, by a godless, persecuting oligarchy, 
are ministers and people deprived of their religious 
rights as British subjects ; and the public worship 
of the Almighty is held to be a crime, and treated 
as such. 

At the court of quarter sessions, held during the 
following month, a similar application is made. 
But care has been taken that the bench shall be 
occupied only, or chiefly, by those who belong to 
the faction opposed to religion and religious teach- 
ing. To the sorrow of hundreds, the missionaries 
are scornfully driven from the court, menaced 
with a most rigid enforcement of the penalties 
imposed by the persecuting ordinance, if they 
dare, in any way, to violate its provisions by preach- 
ing, praying, or singing among the people. 

For a season, Satan has triumphed. Intolerance 



52 Romance Without Fiction. 

and oppression are rampant throughout the land, 
and. the enemies of the Gospel are every-where 
jubilant. There is sorrow in the habitations of 
the just; and a dense gloom has darkened the 
prospects of many a poor negro, who has been per- 
mitted to catch a glimpse of the distant immor- 
tality beyond this vail of suffering and woe, only, 
as it now appears, that it may be lost to him for- 
ever. From Manchioneal in the east, to Negril 
in the west, no Christian sanctuary now opens its 
portals where the poor slave can hear of Jesus 
and the cross, the pardon of sin, and the bright and 
better land where there is no curse, and the weary 
are at rest, and God himself doth wipe away the 
tears from all eyes. True, there are men in the 
land called rectors of parishes ; but troops of ille- 
gitimate mulatto children deriving their paternity 
from them, and their own mangled and murdered 
slaves, proclaim, in too many instances, that these 
are no ministers of Christ's pure Gospel ; and that 
for the injured, disconsolate negro to go to 
them for instruction or comfort would be like 
expecting to find grapes on thorns, or figs on 
thistles. 

There are buildings called parish churches that 
might possibly contain one in five hundred of the 
population of the parish. But it is no uncommon 
thing for these to remain closed, without minister 
or congregation, for months together. Slight, in- 
deed, is the loss sustained when it is so ; for, at 
best, the light in these sanctuaries is scarcely 
enough to make the darkness visible. Nor do 



The Famine of the Word. 53 

these ministers even consider that any beyond the 
thinly-scattered whites of the population form a 
portion of the charge with which they are con- 
cerned. All the hopes of the sons and daughters 
of Africa, whether bond or free, so far as religious 
instruction and the joys and blessings of religion 
are concerned, center in the missionary. Now, alas ! 
he is silent ; and it is a dubious question whether 
the existing generation will ever be permitted again 
to hear, in public, the voice of the Lord's servant, 
pointing the weary, sin-burdened soul to the aton- 
ing Lamb of God. 

The months roll on, and repeated efforts have 
been made to remove the restrictions laid upon 
the worship of God in the city, and afford the peo- 
ple the opportunity, so ardently desired by them, 
of hearing again the preaching of God's saving 
truth. The governor has been appealed to. But 
the man who could put his signature to the " con- 
solidated slave law, and so pervert the power un- 
worthily vested in him as the representative of the 
crown as to sanction and aid the wicked purposes 
of a persecuting slave oppressing faction, could 
have no disposition, even if he possessed the 
power, to interpose between the injured mission- 
aries with their flocks and the municipal authori- 
ties. From him no help can be obtained. It is a 
case in which he has no authority, the city magis- 
trates not being subject to his control. They do 
not, like the general magistracy of the island, re- 
ceive their commissions from the crown, but from 
popular election. At several successive quarter- 



54 Romance Without Fiction. 

sessions the missionaries apply for licenses, such 
as the Common Council may consider sufficient to 
warrant them in the exercise of their ministry in 
the city ; but with no result, except a stern, in- 
dignant refusal. 

A year and a half has passed away since the 
voice of any missionary has been heard in pub- 
lic within these shores. In the rural districts, 
the societies that had been gathered, with many 
prayers and tears, have been scattered. They 
consisted largely of slaves, and it has been im- 
possible to hold among them religious services of 
any kind. The deserted sanctuaries in which 
they loved to hear of the things of God, and where 
they had often experienced the elevating, hallowing 
influences which threw athwart the dark gloom 
of their condition bright gleams of hope, and the 
only rays of comfort whereof their sad and wretched 
state was susceptible, now stand in silence and 
solitude ; serving but to remind them, when pass- 
ing by, of their own utter desolation, and tempting 
them to believe that they are not only foully 
wronged by man, but abandoned of God. They 
no longer even look upon their teachers, for the 
silenced ministers, unable to gain any access to 
their people, have departed to other scenes of 
toil. 

In the city it is somewhat different. The sanct- 
uary is closed, the pulpit vacant, and the mission- 
ary's voice no longer heard in public devotion. 
But two of these servants of Christ remain at the 
post of duty assigned to them, until one is com- 



The Famine of the Word, * 55 

pelled through sickness to take his departure. 
They cannot preach or pray, or even sing a hymn, 
openly; but they can visit from house to house, 
among those who are not in bondage, and converse 
with them on the things of God. Now and then 
they can minister a word of comfort and encour- 
agement to the down-cast slave as he crosses 
their path; and occasionally, when no malignant 
eye is upon them, they can kneel in secret prayer 
with their sorrow-stricken charge. Best of all, the 
Lord is working with them ; and they are not 
without many delightful proofs of his almighty 
power to save. 

But the persecuting " consolidated slave bill ! " 
What has become of that? Measures have been 
taken in England, by the friends of missions, to 
expose the hypocrisy of its pretensions, and make 
known its real character and tendency to the 
members of the privy council ; and his majesty has 
been petitioned to disallow it, and give to the 
thousands of his slave-subjects in Jamaica the 
right to hear of and to worship God. But more 
than a year has elapsed, and no official intelligence 
has been communicated to the Government of the 
enactment of such a law. When inquiry is made, 
it transpires that the time-serving governor of 
Jamaica, Sir Eyre Coote, expecting that the un- 
righteous enactment will certainly be disallowed, 
has so far pandered to the evil passions and pur- 
poses of the planters as designedly to keep it back, 
and thus allow the longest possible time for the 
enemies of slave instruction to carry its oppressive 



56 • Romance Without Fiction. 

clauses into effect, and break up and scatter the 
missionary Churches. This, however, can be done 
no longer. After being in operation more than a 
year and a half, it is at last duly presented to the 
privy council, from whom it receives its well- 
merited fate. The gladsome news circulates 
through the land that his majesty in council has 
disallowed the vile law, and f it is no longer a 
crime, punishable with a heavy penalty, to preach 
the Gospel to slaves. Much injury has been done 
by the scattering of these poor sheep* but many 
of them soon gladly assemble together, and the 
people go up again with joyful hearts to worship 
Jehovah in his temples. 

Unhappily, the disallowance of the " consoli- 
dated slave law " brings no relief to the missionary 
and the society in the city. The intolerant city 
ordinance still remains in force, for his majesty in 
council cannot disallow that. The chapel is still 
closed, and many hundreds of devout people are 
deprived of the bread of life, and denied the right 
of worshiping their Maker in the public ordinances 
of religion. Persecution is rife and triumphant ; 
and so closely are they watched by malignant foes, 
that the missionary and his people are often in- 
terrupted in their family worship by volleys of 
stones hurled against the jalousies and windows 
of their dwellings. The teachers are silent ; but 
still they remain, and go in and out among their 
flock, conveying to many hearts in private the 
gladdening truths they may not openly publish. 
Meanwhile, the brethren at the country station's, 



The Famine of the Word, 57 

freed from the restrictions imposed by the rejected 
law for a season, are now joyfully and successfully 
prosecuting their labors among the slaves of the 
plantations. The persecutors are disappointed 
and angry ; but exulting in liberty, and grateful to 
Him who has curbed the wrath of their enemies, 
the missionaries, having resumed their labor of 
love in the rural parishes with renewed energy, 
preach the hopes of eternal life to their swarthy, 
suffering charge, and thousands of negroes are 
gladdened with the prospect of final deliverance 
within the vail from the manifold evils of their 
present unhappy lot. 

Many hearts in the city yearn for like blessings 
as they think of the country chapels crowded with 
earnest worshipers, listening to the uplifted voice 
of the Lord's messengers, and drinking in words 
of heavenly instruction. Again and again the at- 
tempt is renewed to move the hearts of the city 
magistrates, and obtain the removal of those un- 
just and painful restrictions under which the peo- 
ple labor. But it is in vain, and there is no alter- 
native but patient submission, until the Lord shall 
interpose in answer to prayer, and break the bonds 
of the oppressor. 

"The famine of the word," as the people sig- 
nificantly describe it, is painfully felt; but they 
are not without delightful and encouraging man- 
ifestations of the Lord's presence with his people 
in their affliction, and of his power to save. There 
is no public ministration of the word of life, no 
warning of sinners from the pulpit to flee from the 



58 Romance Without Fiction. 

wrath to come. But the Spirit of the Lord can 
work, and accomplish great and saving results, 
apart from outward means. Persecution can si- 
lence the voice of the Lord's servant ; but it can- 
not enchain the Divine Spirit, or place limits to 
his gracious operations. It is a remarkable and 
encouraging fact, which forces itself upon the ob- 
servation even of the enemies of the truth, that the 
work of God advances more rapidly, and spreads 
more deeply and widely, within the municipal 
boundaries than it has ever done before. The 
efforts put forth to suppress and destroy Method- 
ism have only imparted to it greater strength and 
influence. 

The great adversary has in this case, as often 
before, outwitted himself, and the persecutors have 
defeated their own purpose. This virulent persecu- 
tion of the unoffending Methodists, the outrage upon 
conscience and religious liberty, involved in shut- 
ting up the house of God and dragging the mission- 
ary to a loathsome jail, has 'awakened a powerful 
sympathy in the breasts of hundreds, where utter 
indifference to religion and its professors prevailed 
before ; and multitudes now look with kindly in- 
terest upon the people who are tyrannically denied 
the right to sing and pray. Thus many are pre- 
disposed to receive gracious impressions ; and the 
consequence is, that numerous accessions are 
made to the society, both of men and women, 
bond and free. These, gathered into the Church 
in times of trial and persecution, are known through 
many after years as beautiful patterns of Christian 



The Famine of the Word. 59 

holiness, and burning flames of light and love. 
Some of the finest examples of Christian devoted- 
ness and usefulness the writer has ever known, 
were among those who were gathered into the so- 
ciety during " the seven years' famine of the word." 
Prohibited from preaching, the missionary can 
visit the members of his flock ; and every-where 
he is welcomed as an angel of the Lord. Very 
often the opportunity of offering a short prayer is 
earnestly improved ; and many a brief word of 
admonition or affectionate counsel, dropped by 
the man of God in these visits, becomes as bread 
cast upon the waters, to be found after many days. 

The class-leaders also, men and women of deep 
and rich experience in the things of God, who 
have been chastened by years of persecution and 
rebuke, are neither idle nor unfruitful. Some of 
them can only discharge their duties by periodical 
visitation of their members at their own habita- 
tions ; but this is done with an earnest, untiring 
assiduity, that shows how truly their hearts are in 
the work. And they, through God's blessing, not 
only keep the members of their classes from yield- 
ing to discouragement and falling away, but are 
frequently adding fresh narrfes to their class lists, 
augmenting the candidates for eternal life. There 
is not a street, or lane, or alley in the city where 
the influence of this work of God is not felt. 

But some of the leaders who have slave mem- 
bers in their classes, or others whom it is imprac- 
ticable for divers reasons to visit at their own 
homes, have recourse to various means of evading 



60 Romance Without Fiction. 

the persecuting ordinance, and escaping also the 
vigilant eyes of their foes. There is one whose 
employment keeps him at home all day throughout 
the week ; but on Sunday he is free to go out, and 
his members meet him in the church-yard, vary- 
ing the hour and the spot so as not to attract at- 
tention, and there he speaks to them concerning 
the things of God, ancf gives them Christian coun- 
sel. Another leader meets his members in the 
church-yard just after nightfall, and before the 
nine o'clock bell admonishes all slaves to seek the 
shelter of their homes, they being liable to pun- 
ishment if found abroad after the bell has tolled. 
There, among the tombs, they hold Christian con- 
verse, assured that the superstitious fears of the 
people will secure them from interruption, as none 
will venture to enter the church-yard after it has 
become dark. But every week they choose a dif- 
ferent evening, lest their assembling at one partic- 
ular time should bring upon them the observation 
of the enemy. Another of the leaders, in a simi- 
lar way, causes his members to meet, at a time 
appointed from week to week, under a tree stand- 
ing in an open field beyond the city boundaries, 
during the interval between sunset and the tolling 
of the nine o'clock bell. 

But there is one female leader with whom none 
of these methods are available, and who cannot 
visit the members at their homes, for most of them 
are domestic slaves. She is therefore under the 
necessity of finding out some other means of hold- 
ing Christian intercourse with them, and she 



The Famine of the Word. 61 

finally decides upon a plan that serves the purpose 
well, year after year, until the dawning of better 
days. A particular morning is selected, but fre- 
quently changed, to escape observation. At the 
earliest dawn of day the members repair to a cer- 
tain street, this also being changed from week to 
week. Passing along the street, the leader meets 
one or more of her people at short intervals, and 
holds a brief conversation with them on the affairs 
of the soul, until she has seen and spoken to them 
all. By these, and other equally novel methods, 
the class-meetings, so important in Methodism, 
continue to be held ; the society is kept well to- 
gether ; the people, animated and encouraged by 
their devoted leaders, continue steadfastly growing 
in grace, and the work of the Lord grows and 
prospers. 

Four years have gone since the persecuting or- 
dinance was passed, and all this time " the famine 
of the word " has continued. On the scriptural 
precept of returning good for evil, the corporation 
of the city have been accommodated for some 
months with the use of the chapel for the free 
school while the proper building has been under- 
going renovation. This act of kindness on the 
part of the Methodists, it is hoped, will soften the 
stony hearts of the city magistrates, and dispose 
them to show less hostility toward the missionaries 
and their work. Acting on the assumption that 
the spirit of intolerance has so far abated as to 
admit of the recommencement of public worship 
without interruption, Mr. Wiggins, the resident 



62 Romance Without Fiction. 

missionary, ventures to open the chapel and 
occupy the pulpit, preaching one Sabbath both in 
the forenoon and afternoon. The next morning 
makes it manifest that the spirit of persecution 
has in no degree been modified ; for the offending 
preacher is summoned to the police office, and 
sentenced to a month's confinement in the com- 
mon jail. He is also informed by the magistrates 
that a repetition of the crime will be visited with 
the full penalty of the law. Thus again the hopes 
of the people are blighted. But the sympathizing 
multitude, who crowd every avenue leading to the 
police court, and attend their beloved minister 
with tears to the jail, make it evident to the in- 
tolerant magistrates, not only that their efforts to 
suppress this hated and much dreaded Methodism 
have utterly failed, but that it has become more 
formidable than ever. 

Another year and a half have passed aw r ay, and 
still the house of God is shut up, while the failing 
health of the imprisoned missionary, broken by 
confinement in a loathsome cell, has compelled 
him to bid a reluctant farewell to his loving, suf- 
fering flock, and try what a change to another 
scene of labor will do to recruit his wasted ener- 
gies. After a short interval a successor arrives, 
and the people are gladdened once more to be- 
hold their teacher. Since the last imprisonment 
of the minister of the truth God has been at work, 
and his power has been terribly displayed. The 
pestilence, walking in darkness, has borne thou- 
sands to the grave, and a destructive hurricane 



The Famine of the Word. 63 

has swept over the guilty country, producing 
wide-spread devastation both by sea and land. 
An earthquake, more dreadful and alarming than 
any experienced since the awful visitation that 
submerged Port Royal, the capital of the colony, 
beneath the waves, more than a hundred and 
twenty years before, has shaken the island to its 
center, greatly changing the aspect of the country, 
and speaking with its voice of thunder to bid a 
thoughtless, guilty people stand in awe of God. 
These upliftings of the Almighty arm have not 
been without effect. Greater intensity has been 
imparted to the religious feeling, now widely per- 
vading the city. Even the persecuting faction 
have not been entirely insensible to the influence 
of these providential visitations, and it becomes 
manifest that a considerable change has taken 
place in their feelings and views with regard to 
the missionaries since, eighteen months ago, they 
gnashed their teeth with rage against a Christian 
minister, and sent him to breathe the fetid atmos- 
phere of the city prison. 

This change is so marked that it is considered 
advisable to make another effort to remove the 
existing disabilities by requesting the city magis- 
trates to grant to Mr. Davis, the newly-arrived 
minister, such a license as these dignitaries may 
deem sufficient to warrant the re-opening of the 
chapel for public worship. With many misgivings 
the petition is prepared and presented, and to the 
surprise and joy of thousands, after a few merely 
technical objections to the form of the petition, its 



64 Romance Without Fiction. 

prayer is granted. Mr. Davis is licensed, and de- 
clared to be duly qualified. Several weeks elapse 
before the chapel is ready to receive the congre- 
gation, and again its hallowed walls re-echo the 
sounds of prayer and praise, and the proclamation 
of the ever-blessed Gospel. 

But dark and mysterious are the ways of Provi^ 
dence ! Scarcely has this great joy been realized 
by the anxious people, many of whom have waited 
for it for some years, when it is turned into sor- 
row, the voice of God's honored messenger, upon 
whose lips multitudes have hung with unmixed 
delight, being suddenly hushed in the silence of 
the grave. The deadly fever has seized him, and 
after a brief illness he passes away to the Church 
above^ and the sanctuary of the Lord is left again 
to solitude and silence. 

While this youthful laborer, snatched away in 
his prime, is being laid in the dust, amid the loud 
lamentations of the afflicted multitude, who grieve 
for his removal from among them as a mother 
mourns the loss of her firstborn, Jehovah, the 
faithful hearer of prayer, is bringing another to 
their help. He is already crossing the Atlantic* 
for whom is reserved the happy privilege of tri- 
umphing over, and finally removing, those legal 
hinderances which have so long obstructed the 
word of God. Just a month after Mr. Davis had 
been removed by death, Mr. Shipman, with his 
wife, arrives upon the scene. But when applica- 
tion is made on his behalf to the city magistrates 
for a license intolerance has gathered strength, 



The Famine of the Word. 6$ 

and is found to be once more in the ascendant. 
A party in the municipal body, styling themselves 
anti-Wesleyans, have taken possession of the court, 
and the license is peremptorily refused, although 
the application is supported by the earnest recom- 
mendation of several of the principal inhabitants 
of the city. Again and again it is repeated, but 
always with the same result. The more liberal 
party which has risen up in the City Council is in- 
variably outvoted by the "bigots of slavery. 

Discouraged by these repeated disappointments, 
spreading over some months, the baffled mission- 
ary thinks of retiring to some other sphere of 
labor, where he will be able to exercise his minis- 
try without interruption. But it is often the dark- 
est just before the dawn. When he is almost giv- 
ing place to despondency a friendly member of 
the Common Council comes forward to his aid, 
advising him to wait patiently for a while, and 
suggesting a plan likely to defeat the purposes of 
the persecutors. The co-operation of several 
members of the municipal body, who are friendly 
to missionary efforts and can be relied on, is 
quietly engaged, and they all agree to meet at a 
given hour, when the opposing party, in conse- 
quence of having heard nothing concerning the 
intention of the missionary to apply again for a 
license, are likely to be off their guard. At the 
appointed time, arriving from different points, the 
friendly magistrates all assemble in the court. 
Mr. Shipman, who is waiting close at hand, is im- 
mediately summoned, and before the opposers can 



€6 Romance Without Fiction. 

muster in sufficient force to prevent it, the mis- 
sionary is duly licensed by competent authority to 
exercise his ministry within the municipal bound- 
aries. All over the city there is great joy that 
the doors of the Lord's house are again to be 
opened, and its walls resound once more with the 
songs of Christian worshipers. 

There is in the society a white lady — a Mrs. 
Smith — who was among the first seals of Dr. 
Coke's ministry in Jamaica, and a member of the 
first class formed in the island, consisting of eight 
members. At one of the services, soon after he 
arrived in the colony, the life of the good doctor 
was threatened by a brutal mob of slaveholders. 
This lady, with noble, undaunted courage, con- 
fronted them, and having no more formidable 
weapon at command, she kept the savage, cow- 
ardly assailants at bay with a pair of scissors until 
the doctor was conducted to a place of safety. 
A mother in Israel, and greatly and deservedly 
beloved, her labors and prayers have been un- 
ceasing during the long persecution and privation 
which the Church has experienced. A pattern of 
holiness and zeal to all, she has encouraged the 
timid, strengthened the weak, and comforted the 
afflicted, and her noble example has confirmed 
many in the right way. 

To her, by universal consent, is assigned the 
honor of opening the gates of the sanctuary to the 
crowd of anxious worshipers. The third of Sep- 
tember is the appointed day, more than seven 
years having then elapsed since the persecuting 



The Famine of the Word. 67 

ordinance which shut up the chapel began to take 
effect. When the hour for divine service arrives 
several thousands have gathered in the large square 
in front of the chapel. The missionary lifts from 
its place the heavy bar that keeps the gates closed. 
Then Mrs. Smith, lifting her voice in earnest 
prayer to God that persecution may never again 
be permitted to close them, so as to shut out faith- 
ful worshipers from the Lord's house, throws them 
wide open. The people enter and crowd every 
aisle and seat, and the minister ascends the pulpit, 
preaching the word of life to the throng of eager, 
delighted listeners from Psa. lxxxiv, 1-4 : " How 
amiable are thy tabernacles," etc. The long 
dearth of the bread of life, which multitudes have 
keenly felt and deplored with many tears, exists 
no longer. God has turned the sadness of his 
people into joy. He has "made them glad ac- 
cording to the days wherein he afflicted them, 
and the years wherein they suffered evil." 

How wonderful are the ways of the Lord ! 
How easy is it for him to baffle the enemies of his 
Church, and to confound the devices of perse- 
cutors ! They cursed the Lord's people, but he 
changed the curse into a blessing. As theJLord 
himself hath said, " He that sitteth in the heavens 
shall laugh. The Lord shall have them in deris- 
ion." They thought to crush and destroy the 
infant Church of Christ, but he has strengthened 
and enlarged it abundantly. When the hand of 
the oppressor closed the gates of the sanctuary 
the Church enrolled five hundred and sixty mem- 



68 Romance Without Fiction. 

hers only. When the over-ruling providence of 
God caused them to be re-opened, after what 
some call " the seven years' night," never again 
to be closed by the hand of violence, the society 
was found to have increased to one thousand seven 
hundred and twenty-three. * 

Those added to the Church during this time of 
trial were a choice and peculiar people. The 
writer has often been delighted and profited when, 
in the love-feasts, he listened to their profoundly 
interesting narrations of a rich Christian expe- 
rience. Many hearts have been strengthened, and 
many sincere seekers after salvation encouraged 
as they heard them tell of the presence and power 
of the Head of the Church among his people 
when they, with many others, were brought to 
God, and saved from the guilt and power of sin 
during " the seven years' famine of the word." 



The Martyr Missionary. 69 



III. 

The Martyr Missionary. 

A patriot's blood may earn, indeed, 
And for a time insure to his loyed land 
The sweets of liberty and equal laws ; 
But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize, 
And win it with more pain. Their blood is shed 
In confirmation of the noblest claim, 
Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, 
To walk with God, to be divinely free, 
To soar, and to anticipate the skies.— Cowpee. 

JHE date of our tale carries us back on the 
stream of time some sixteen or seventeen 
years. Far up among the mountains, in the 
interior of Jamaica, a missionary, who has borne 
the toils and anxieties of fifteen years in that land 
of oppression, (during which time he had passed 
through many vicissitudes, and rejoiced greatly 
over the downfall of colonial slavery,) is standing 
by the side of a low, plain brick tomb, undistin- 
guished by any inscription to inform the beholder 
whose ashes are slumbering in the dust beneath. 
The tomb is discolored by time and moss-grown, 
Grass and weeds almost conceal it, for it is nearly 
twenty years since that grave was opened to re- 
ceive the remains of a victim of bigotry and per- 
secution, who rests there awaiting the morning of 
the resurrection, and " the glory that is to be re- 



70 Romance Without Fiction. 

vealed " in the saint at " the manifestations of the 
sons of God." To visit that tomb the missionary 
has taken a journey of some miles. 

The evening is most lovely. Gentle, sweet, and 
balmy are the breezes sweeping by, just sufficient 
to temper the heat and bear to the gratified sense 
the delicious fragrance gleaned from rich orange 
blossoms adorning a multitude of trees with which 
the surrounding pastures abound. The western 
sky is lighted up with splendor and beauty, for 
the sun is near his setting, and paints one of those 
gorgeous scenes which are never witnessed to such 
advantage as within the tropics. 

The scenery all around is very pleasant to the 
eye. The spot upon which the visitor stands, by 
the side of that long-closed grave, is in a lovely 
valley amid the mountains of St. Ann's. No cane- 
fields or sugar -works meet the sight, for it is a* part 
of the country altogether devoted to pasture. 
There are gentle glades and undulating hills, 
where waves the luxuriant Guinea grass, intro- 
duced into the country by a slave-ship from 
Africa in a way that may be called accidental, 
and proving a rich and invaluable boon to the 
planters. There are clumps of cedar and other 
valuable trees, giving a rich and park-like appear- 
ance to the landscape, interspersed with vast num- 
bers of the orange, now white with its delicate 
snowy blossoms, so fragrant and so pure. Here 
and there towers an ancient specimen of the wild 
cotton, whose giant stem, shooting up eighty or 
! ninety feet, at length throws wide its massive 



The Martyr Missionary. 71 

umbrageous limbs. Vast patches of woodland 
away in the distance diversify the scene, occa- 
sionally broken by openings of greater or less 
extent, marking spots where the emancipated 
negro has partly cleared the virgin land from the 
heavy timber which covered his newly purchased 
fre.ehold, and where he has fixed his humble cot- 
tage, now that he has become an owner of the soil 
to which he was attached first as a slave, and then 
as an apprenticed laborer. Encircling the whole, 
and bounding the landscape, may be traced, 
through a pellucid atmosphere, the outline of im- 
mense ranges of mountains stretching far away, 
covered with forests, the growth of many cen- 
turies. 

All around is enchanting ; but the missionary's 
eye rests again upon the humble grave, and then, 
close at hand, upon the ruins of a mission chapel, 
and a dilapidated but still tenantable mission 
house, exhibiting a strange and sad contrast to 
the smiling beauty of the landscape, and telling, 
in their mournful desolation, with silent eloquence, 
of days when all bad passions were called into ex- 
ercise to oppose the faithful preaching of the truth. 
On this spot there ~stood a Christian sanctuary, 
built of the hard wood of the country, and capable 
of receiving from five to six hundred worshipers. 
Its walls once resounded with the proclamation of 
the glorious Gospel and the unrivaled hymns of 
the Wesleys, sung by hundreds still bearing the 
yoke of earthly masters, while, spiritually eman- 
cipated, they exulted in the liberty wherewith 



72 Romance Without Fiction. 

Christ had made them free. And there at one 
end of the house of God was the unpretending 
but sufficient house for the residence of the mis- 
sionary. A few uncovered rafters overhead, part 
of the framework of the floor, and several upright 
pieces of timber that once supported the roof, 
these only remain of the attractive and commo- 
dious house of prayer that formerly adorned this 
place, inviting the sable sons and daughters of 
Africa to come and join in the worship of the 
Holy One, who " hath made of one blood all na- 
tions of men for to dwell on all the face of the 
earth." And the pleasant dwelling, though still 
partly inhabited, is but the wreck of what it was 
years ago, before this lovely station was made 
desolate by persecution, stirred up by a slave op- 
pressor, whose position as rector of the parish im- 
parts a deeper turpitude to cruelties and atrocities 
suffered by his own and other people's slaves at 
his hands or through his instigation. As the 
visitor stands there at the lonely tomb until the 
sun disappears behind the distant hills, and the 
fast-receding splendors amid which the glorious 
orb has dipped beneath the distant western wave 
admonish him that the time has come for re- 
mounting his horse, he is busy with memories, 
both pleasing and painful, associated with the 
history of that desecrated sanctuary and the 
martyr's grave. The scenes of by-gone days rise 
in a vivid light to his mind, like a series of dis- 
solving views, awakening mingled emotions of in- 
dignation and sympathy, but all merging in pro- 



The Martyr Missionary. 73 

found gratitude to Him, the Wise and Good, who 
hath made " the wrath of man to praise " him, 
while " the remainder of wrath " he hath " re- 
strained." Let some of these changing scenes 
pass in review before us. 

A meeting is held in the humble chapel at 
Spanish Town, the capital of the colony, called 
by the Spaniards Santiago de la Vega, where are 
situated the princely residence of the governor, 
and an extensive suite of government buildings 
and offices, in the midst of which stands Rodney's 
temple, an ornamental structure erected to the 
honor of our naval hero of that name, and in- 
tended to commemorate the victories he gained 
in these western seas. The temple is adorned 
with a costly marble statue of the admiral, and 
several massive guns taken from the captured or 
sunken ships of the enemy. The meeting which 
is going on in the humble place of worship is not 
one of the regular services, but a meeting held by 
the choir for practicing tunes to be sung in the 
public ordinances of the church. Attracted by 
the music, a gentleman enters the building and 
quietly takes a distant seat, listening with evident 
interest. When the little assembly of harmonists 
breaks up the stranger does not retire ; but after 
their departure he advances, and apologizing for 
the apparent intrusion, introduces himself to the 
missionary as Mr. Stephen Drew, a barrister, re- 
siding 'on his own estate in St. Ann's parish, called 
Belmont. In the conversation that follows the 
minister discovers that his new acquaintance is 



74 Romance Without Fiction. 

not a stranger to religious influences and religious 
feelings, and it transpires, all the more interest- 
ingly and pleasingly because so unusual among 
the planters of Jamaica, that he has adopted the 
practice of reading prayers among his slaves every 
Sabbath morning, and that he usually accompanies 
this service with one of Wesley's sermons. This 
pleasant interview, destined to lead to many very 
important results, ends with the expression, on the 
part of the stranger, of a desire to have his slaves 
instructed in the great truths of the Gospel by 
Wesleyan ministers, and a polite and earnest re- 
quest that the missionary will favor him with a 
speedy visit at his residence in the mountains. 
An early opportunity is taken by the Spanish 
Town minister to comply with the invitation, and 
after a ride of about forty miles through most 
romantic and magnificent scenery, he arrives at 
Belmont and receives a warm welcome. During 
this first short visit the missionary opens his com- 
mission among the inhabitants of St. Ann's parish 
by preaching every evening to the family of his 
host arid the slaves resident on the " pen " (it 
would be called a grazing farm in England or 
America) the welcome tidings of salvation through 
the atonement of Jesus. It is the first time that 
wide-spread parish has seen a Christian minister 
preaching to a congregation of slaves, for all are 
slaves except the master and his family, and two 
or three white officials who have the direction and 
oversight of the property. It is true there is a 
parish church, but this is small, and ten miles distant. 



The Martyr Missionary. 75 

Nor was it built with a view to the instruction of 
the negro race, but for the white inhabitants, 
these only being regarded as under the pastoral 
care of the island clergy. As to the man who 
officiates there, his claim to the designation of a 
Christian minister is more than questionable, for 
all that ever was Christian about him is sunk and 
lost in the brutal and callous slaveholder, of which 
class he exhibits the worst type, while the owner 
of Belmont is an example of the most indulgent 
and the best. 

After a few days' visit, which has awakened a 
considerable interest in the neighborhood, the mis- 
sionary retraces his path to his home in the low, 
hot, dusty town of Santiago de la Vega, with pleas- 
ant memories of the journey, and the new friend- 
ships and associations he has formed. Some weeks 
later the impaired health of his wife induces him 
to accept a pressing invitation from his Belmont 
host and hostess to give the sufferer the benefit 
of a change to the cool and more salubrious cli- 
mate of the St. Ann's mountains. Removed 
thither by gentle stages, the sinking invalid in 
that pleasant region recruits her wasted energies ; 
and soon the pallid, sunken cheek exhibits again 
as much of the bloom of health and youth as is 
usually to be found within the tropics. Mean- 
while, her husband is diligently spreading the truth 
among the enslaved population around. He can 
gain no access to them on the week-day, beyond the 
boundary of his friend's estate; but on the Sab- 
bath a multitude of the poor slaves flock from all 



y6 Romance Without Fiction. ' 

the surrounding country, having heard of the min- 
ister who is preaching at Belmont ; some influenced 
by curiosity, but many eager to hear about the 
Crucified, and the heaven of joy and love which 
they may gain through his merits, after the unre- 
quited toils and wasting hardships of their present 
unenviable lot shall have passed away. The mis- 
sionary's wife, too, devotes her rapidly increasing 
strength to the instruction of these dark children 
of Africa — dark in mind as in complexion — with 
the full sanction of their God-fearing owner, who 
is anxious that his bondmen and bondwomen may 
share with himself the joyous hopes of life and im- 
mortality beyond the grave. The blessed seed of 
the kingdom, cast among the enslaved children of 
Ham, has generally found a genial and fruitful 
soil. And there is no exception here. Dark eyes 
glisten with mingled emotions, and dark faces 
stream with copious tears, as the man of God 
dwells on the story of the cross, and expatiates on 
God's wondrous love to the lowliest and guiltiest 
of the sinful race- — the slave as well as the free, 
the black man as well as the white, all equally in- 
terested in the atonement which love has provided. 
The melodies of the Methodist poet, sung by clear 
and tuneful voices, now begin to be heard in the 
cottages around, and earnest supplication, in sim- 
ple, broken language, goes' up from many a retreat 
amid these pleasant vales and mountains, where 
the voice of prayer was never heard before. The 
power of the word has been felt in not a few weary 
hearts, and with a ready faith the blessings of 



The Martyr Missionary. jj 

salvation have been appropriated. In a word, souls 
have passed from death unto life ; so that, on New 
Year's day, thirty to forty, professing faith in the 
blood of Christ, and experiencing its cleansing 
power, are baptized in the name of the ever- 
blessed Trinity. Thus are laid the foundations of 
a Church destined to pass through many trials 
and triumphs, the master and mistress of the pro- 
perty being enrolled among its earliest members ; 
for they also have obtained, through believing, 
"the peace which passeth all understanding." 
Before the missionary returns to his own appointed 
sphere of labor in the capital, after a sojourn of 
three months in St. Ann's, an arrangement is con- 
cluded for this new station to be visited on one 
Sabbath in six weeks, to the great joy of many, 
who hope to have a missionary ere long stationed 
in their own parish. 

Three years pass away. Through the occasion- 
al visits of the missionaries, and the zealous labors 
of the Christian proprietor of Belmont, (now be- 
come an efficient local preacher,) many souls have 
been brought to God; societies, more or less 
promising, have been established ; and preaching- 
houses have been opened at several other places in 
the parish, chiefly along the coast. And the time 
has arrived for taking measures in order to the 
more permanent establishment of the mission at 
Belmont, by the erection of suitable buildings for 
public worship, and for a missionary's residence ; 
so that the growing work of God in this part of the 
island maybe placed under the immediate pastoral 



78 Romance Without Fiction. 

oversight. The estate is so held by its present 
occupant and owner, that the concurrence of his 
children, who are all minors, is necessary to convey 
an absolute right to any portion of it ; which, 
therefore, cannot be legally done till they have at- 
tained their majority. In hope that either himself 
or his wife, if not both, may survive that period, 
or that, at all events, he may be able to effect such 
arrangements as will finally secure the property 
for the object contemplated, a suitable piece of 
land is conveyed to the society at Belmont, not of 
much value to the estate itself, though a most ac- 
ceptable gift to them. This is accompanied by a 
donation of the timber necessary for the buildings, 
and after considerable delay the several erections 
are commenced. Pecuniary difficulties arise, so 
that years elapse before the undertaking is com- 
pleted. But these difficulties are at length 
surmounted ; and, to the unbounded joy of a mul- 
titude of the sable and oppressed denizens of the 
parish, a commodious sanctuary, and a pleasant 
house adjoining, are made ready to serve the 
purpose of their erection. And there the work of 
the Lord abundantly prospers. It is a center of 
Gospel light and influence, with radiations sweep- 
ing over many miles around. Hundreds of souls 
are there born of God, and set free from the mis- 
erable thraldom of sin. On the Sabbath morning 
the whole country is enlivened, as numbers of the 
enslaved peasantry in their best attire, and not a 
few of the free colored inhabitants, wend their way 
in the direction of Belmont, reminding the be- 



The Martyr Missionary, 79 

holder of the beautiful words of a Hebrew prophet : 
" And many people shall go and say, Come ye, 
and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to 
the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach 
us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths." Isa. 

ii, 3- 

For several years this work has gone on without 
interruption, though scanned by some with an evil 
and suspicious eye ; the character of Mr. Drew, 
and his influence in the parish, being sufficient to 
restrain the spirit of persecution, until many of the 
new converts have become established in grace. 
But there is one hard-hearted man, whose talents, 
and position as rector, give him great power to 
work mischief. From the beginning this man has 
watched the progress of the Methodist mission 
with jealous and malignant feelings, which only 
wanted an opportunity for development; and his 
influence has been covertly exerted to arouse 
among his parishioners a spirit of like hostility. 
These efforts, entirely at variance with the spirit 
proper to his sacred office, combined with the ex- 
ample of other persecutors, who have caused the 
death of the Missionary Smith in Demerara, and 
demolished the Wesleyan chapel in Barbadoes, 
have not been without fruit ; and there now exists 
an amount of bitterness and hatred, among the 
planters of St. Ann's parish, well calculated to pro- 
duce similar results in Jamaica when a favorable 
opportunity shall arise. The first indication of 
this bad feeling is seen in the refusal of the magis- 
trates to license two missionaries appointed to 



80 Romance Without Fiction. 

labor in the parish ; these functionaries assuming 
to themselves the power (which, according to a 
subsequent decision of the highest legal author- 
ities of the island, they had no right to do) of re- 
quiring every missionary to take out a separate 
license for the parish, and of refusing such license 
at their pleasure. This being assumed in every 
other parish, the missionaries are subjected to 
most vexatious restrictions. The effect in the 
present case is to deprive St. Ann's, for awhile, of 
a resident missionary. During this time one of 
the brethren, (Mr. Ratcliffe,) who has already ob- 
tained a license authorizing him to preach in the 
parish, devotes to it much of his labor, although 
residing at a distance of some forty miles, until he 
is enabled so far to free himself from other en- 
gagements as to take up his abode for a year or 
two in St. Ann's. Thus the plans of the perse- 
cutors are frustrated. But the spirit of intolerance 
has become increasingly rampant ; and, before 
leaving his fruitful field of toil, this peaceable min- 
ister of Jesus Christ, and his family, narrowly 
escape the violence of a gang of ruffians insti- 
gated to the outrage by the slaveholding rector ! 

Mr. Ratcliffe, whose name is precious wherever 
he has labored, is succeeded by a younger min- 
ister holding no license from the magistrates of 
St. Ann's. He does not, however, think himself 
called upon to desist from his sacred labor until 
the arrival of the quarter-sessions, but commences 
preaching at all the stations, intending to apply to 
the court at its next sitting. In the person of one of 



The Martyr Missionary. 8 1 

the parish functionaries, who combines in himself 
the offices of head-constable and master of the 
workhouse and jail, (both places of punishment,) 
is exhibited one of the worst types of humanity; a 
man rendered callous and brutal, to an extraor- 
dinary degree, by doing the will of the slavehold- 
ers in punishing the unfortunate slaves, until he 
actually feels a savage delight in witnessing and 
inflicting suffering. The payment of a small fee 
is all that is necessary to secure at his hands, and 
to any extent, the punishment of a slave sent for 
the purpose. In him the rector finds a willing and 
unscrupulous agent for gratifying his own malignity 
toward those who are seeking to meliorate the sad 
condition of the masses in the parish, by diffusing 
among them the blessed light of the Gospel. The 
constable-jailer first attempts to silence the man 
of God by threats, but in vain. Then, when the 
missionary applies to the court of quarter-sessions, 
he opposes him there, and represents to the mag- 
istrates that this Methodist preacher has set the 
law at naught by preaching without a license ; 
although there is, in fact, no law rendering it 
necessary to obtain a license in any other part of 
the island, when, in compliance with the British 
Toleration Act, the oaths have been taken in one 
parish, which the missionary has done. But the 
designs of this evil-minded man and his employer 
are baffled by the influence of the cusfos, the Hon. 
Henry Cox, who has not come under the unholy 
influence diffused through the parish, and whose 
knowledge of Mr. Drew, and of the labors of the 



82 Romance Without Fiction. 

missionaries, enables him more correctly to esti- 
mate the benefits which they are conferring both 
upon the enslaved people and their owners. The 
eustos succeeds in bringing over the other magis- 
trates to his own views; the missionary is allowed 
to take the oaths ; and, having paid somewhat ex- 
orbitant fees to the officers of the court, he takes 
his departure with a certificate which recognizes 
his right to exercise his ministry throughout the 
parish of St. Ann. 

Defeated in this attempt to break up the re- 
ligious services of the Methodists at Belmont and 
elsewhere, the constable is frequently to be found 
hovering about the chapel doors, abusing- and 
threatening the poor slaves as they enter or leave 
the house of prayer, and reporting their attendance 
there to the overseers of the several estates to 
which they belong ; thus causing them, in some 
instances, to be cruelly punished by their task- 
masters. But the malign influence of the rector is 
at work in another direction. Many times the 
legislature of the island has enacted laws with a 
view to suppress the labors of the missionaries 
among the slaves ; but as often have these wicked 
attempts been neutralized by the vigilance of 
Christian friends in England, and by the liberal 
feeling of the home Government. However cun- 
ningly constructed, the oppressive enactments 
have been uniformly disallowed by the sovereign 
in council. But again this engine of mischief is 
set to work, and all the art and address of the 
clever rector are brought to the task of so draw- 



The Martyr Missionary. 83 

ing up an act, which is to break up the missions 
as to insure the approval of the Government at 
home. A law is framed, consisting of nearly a 
hundred clauses, professedly to improve the con- 
dition of the slaves, and to secure to them various 
advantages and indulgences. Among these is a 
provision to make slave evidence admissible in 
certain cases — a concession hitherto sternly and 
indignantly refused by the local legislature. But 
all this is intended as the vehicle for passing into 
the authority of established law (as nurses dis- 
guise medicine for children in that which is 
agreeable to the palate) other provisions of a most 
intolerant character, which go to deprive the 
negroes of all religious rights — provisions which 
make punishable with heavy fine or imprisonment 
the assembling of slaves between sunset and sun- 
rise for religious instruction by any persons, not 
of the Established Church, professing to be teach- 
ers of religion ; excepting, in most distinct terms, 
Jews and Roman Catholics ! — -while Presbyterians 
and " licensed ministers " are allowed to hold serv- 
ices as late as eight o'clock in the evening. It 
is also made a crime for slaves to give any instruc- 
tion to each other ; a clause evidently designed 
to restrain slaves from acting as class-leaders. 
Moreover it is proposed to punish missionaries 
who receive contributions from slaves for any 
pious or charitable purposes whatsoever. This 
" new consolidated slave law," as it is called, is 
nothing more or less than a deep plot, the off- 
spring of the fertile brain of the rector, to entrap 



84 Romance Without Fiction. 

his majesty's Government into concurrence with a 
system of persecution and of great cruelty. For, 
what could be more cruel than to take from the 
sons and daughters of oppression their only solace 
under the iron yoke and shut them up to all the 
consequences of ignorance ? 

But the persecutors have " reckoned within 
their host." The gay duke, representing his maj- 
esty in this colony, shows himself quite ready to 
indorse and sanction their attempt to add bitter- 
ness to the lot of the oppressed, under the hypo- 
critical pretense of conferring benefits upon them. 
But, to give it permanence, the act must have also 
the approval of the king in council ; and his maj- 
esty's ministers are not so easily deceived as the 
rector of St. Ann's, and his brother conspirators 
against the rights and liberties of their fellow-men, 
suppose. There is in the Colonial Office one who 
has occupied a seat there for many years as a 
principal clerk under several administrations — a 
man whose large heart warmly sympathizes with 
the slaves and their persecuted instructors, and 
who is thoroughly awake to all the finesse and 
hypocrisy of colonial legislation. The profession 
of the Jamaica Legislature to be concerned about 
improving the condition of the slave goes with him 
for as much as it is .worth. It is justly regarded 
as an index to evil at work. He knows them and 
their proclivities well. At once his eagle glance 
penetrates the real design of this elaborate enact- 
ment, and all its cruelty and treachery lie open to 
his view : for long experience in colonial affairs 



The Martyr Missionary. 85 

has taught him how easy it will be for the planters, 
when once their real object in preventing negro 
instruction by the missionaries is secured by law, 
to reduce to a dead letter every thing that is made 
to wear a kind and indulgent aspect toward the 
slaves. In addition, there is the masterly intellect 
of Richard Watson at the Mission House in Lon- 
don ; and his powerful pen lays bare the deformity 
and wickedness of this piece of colonial legislation, 
in the protest of the Missionary Committee laid 
before his majesty's council. In a short time 
(far shorter than is usually occupied in the dis- 
posal of a colonial bill ) a dispatch arrives in 
Jamaica, bearing the honored name of Huskisson, 
which disallows the " new consolidated slave law," 
and embodies such comments as prove that its 
real character, however well disguised, is under- 
stood and appreciated by the ministers of the 
crown. The covert invasion of that religious 
liberty to which all subjects of the British crown 
are entitled — the attempt to prevent all mutual 
instruction among the slaves — the prohibition of 
religious meetings between sunset and sunrise, 
amounting in many cases to a prohibition of re- 
ligious worship altogether, especially in the case 
of domestic slaves — the invidious distinction set 
up between Protestant Nonconformists and Jews 
and Roman Catholics — and the attempt to forbid 
bylaw to the slave what is required of all by New 
Testament precept, (namely, the contributing 
for pious and charitable uses,) are pointed out, 
and commented on, in terms that are gall and 



86 Romance Without Fiction. 

wormwood to the baffled authors of this nefarious 
plot. And the dispatch, so worthy the heart and 
head of a Christian statesman, concludes with an 
impressive mandate to the Governor-General, in- 
tended to guide him and all his successors in that 
high station, and to prevent the coming into oper- 
ation, even for a short season, *of any such act : 
" I cannot too distinctly impress upon you that 
it is the settled purpose of his majesty s Government 
to sanction no colonial law which needlessly infringes 
on the religious liberty of any class of his majesty's 
subjects j and you will understand that you are 
not to assent to any bill imposing any restraint of 
that nature, unless a clause be inserted for suspending 
its operation until his majesty's pleasure shall be 
known." 

But, while the wretched " law " has been slowly 
traveling to Europe and back ; (there being no 
fleet of massive steamers as yet traversing the 
broad Atlantic,) and during the time it had been 
under discussion at the Colonial Office, it has come 
into temporary operation in Jamaica, and eager 
advantage is taken of it in many parts of the island, 
but especially in St. Ann's, to harass and persecute 
the religious instructors of the slaves. The new 
" law " began to take effect on the ioth of May ; 
and, before the month expires, Mr. Grimsdall, 
the missionary resident at Belmont, being the sec- 
ond who has occupied the new house there, is 
summoned before the magistrates in special ses- 
sion, to answer complaints preferred by the con- 
stable. It is alleged that he has preached in an 



The Martyr Missionary, 87 

unlicensed house at Ocho Rios, and has also 
preached to a company of slaves at unlawful 
hours — that is, after sunset. He obeys the sum- 
mons. To the first charge the accused replies, 
that for about three years the house in question 
has been used as a place of religious worship ; but 
that, to meet the requirements of the new law, 
he has done all that was practicable in the case, 
having sent in a certificate to the clerk of the 
peace, showing that the house is intended to be 
still used as formerly, and conveying an application 
that it should be accordingly registered at the 
court of quarter-sessions. The three magistrates 
upon the bench require that he shall cease to 
use the house for religious purposes until it has 
been duly licensed by this court. He is very 
well convinced that this is only a scheme to put 
an end to the services in that place altogether. 
(Herein, as it turns out, he is quite right ; for, 
when the quarter-sessions arrive, the magistrates 
assume and exercise the illegal power of refusing 
to " record " the house.) However, as it will in- 
volve no more than the cessation of the services 
for a few weeks, he submits to this arbitrary 
stretch of authority, and consents to abstain from 
preaching at Ocho Rios until the court of quarter- 
sessions has been held. In dealing with the charge 
of preaching to slaves at unlawful hours, the ac- 
cused refers to the very clause of the law under 
which the complaint has been made ; and show r s, 
what is very clear, that his case forms one of the 
exceptions there mentioned, inasmuch as he is a 



88 Romance Without Fiction. 

duly licensed minister — licensed in the parish — and 
therefore entitled, by the new law itself, to con- 
tinue religious service until eight o'clock ; beyond 
which hour, even the accuser testified, those exer- 
cises were not continued. But he has to do with 
men who do not scruple to make the law bend to 
their own bad purposes and prejudices. It was 
predetermined that the Methodist preacher should 
go to jail, or pay a fine of twenty pounds at least ; 
and, refusing to gratify these gentlemen by paying 
down this amount of his own or the Society's 
money, to jail he is accordingly sent, committed 
by S. W. Rose, B. W. Smith, and David Brydon— 
occupants, if not ornaments, of the bench — for 
u teaching and preaching to slaves, at improper 
and unlawful hours, contrary to the true intent and 
meaning of the law now in force." 

In the custody of the constable the missionary 
is led to prison, one of the most filthy and noisome 
of all the loathsome prisons of Jamaica. The 
upper story of the jail is divided into four apart- 
ments, two of which are used as the parish hos- 
pital, the partition walls not rising to the ceiling, 
but only part of the way, and surmounted with 
open lattice work, so that the unwholesome efflu- 
via from the hospital float freely through all the 
apartments. One of the other two rooms is as- 
signed to the missionary, while the second is 
crowded with prisoners. The four rooms occupy 
a space of thirty-five feet by twenty-five. Under- 
neath, and separated only by a single-boarded floor, 
are cells occupied by three men under sentence of 



The Martyr Missionary. 89 

death, and by a crowd of prisoners, chiefly negroes, 
who are awaiting their trial foi various offenses 
at the quarter-sessions. There is but one window 
to the missionary's cell, and that is so situated as 
to render the place almost intolerable. It is only 
by the free use of strong camphorated spirit that 
he can overcome the nausea with which he is as- 
sailed all through the evening and the night. Ten 
long nights and days he endures this cruel con- 
finement, after which he is set at liberty, with 
health broken, and physical energies much ex- 
hausted. As it is the blessed Sabbath he bends 
his footsteps at once to the chapel, not far distant, 
where, enfeebled as he is, he conducts both the 
public services of the day, rejoicing, with his af- 
flicted, sympathizing flock, in the grace by which 
he has been sustained while suffering for his Mas- 
ter's sake. On the Monday he reaches his resi- 
dence at Belmont. Delightful is the change from 
that dreary prison to a sweet mountain home, and 
precious are the fresh and fragrant breezes which 
greet him there, where many sable hundreds tes- 
tify by their tears the deepest condolence with 
their beloved minister, and with extravagant dem- 
onstrations welcome his return to his family and 
to them. 

Having consented to abstain from preaching in 
the house at Ocho Rios until the quarter-sessions 
shall afford him the opportunity of having the 
place recorded for the purpose, he refrains from 
conducting any public service there, willing to 
conciliate prejudice by submitting for a season to 



90 Romance Without Fiction. 

an illegal restriction. At the proper time he pre- 
sents himself before the magistrates, when the 
custos, who presides at the sessions, and another 
of the magistrates, express themselves in favor of 
registering the house at Ocho Rios, and granting 
the certificate. But the adverse influence of the 
rector has been at work, and there is a large as- 
semblage of magistrates who have been drawn to 
join the ranks of the persecutors, and have come to- 
gether for the sake of putting down the Methodist 
preachers. The custos is outvoted, and the court 
decides upon refusing to grant any certificate. 
This amounts to a decision that the services at 
Ocho Rios, which have continued for some years, 
shall be brought to a close, and the people in 
that neighborhood deprived of sacred ordinances. 
The missionary is a man of meek and humble 
spirit, but also of courage. He is satisfied that 
these men have no legal authority for what they 
do, and, having shown his respect for what they 
choose to regard as law, and satisfied the Tolera- 
tion Act, he concludes that he has done all that 
Christian duty and a good conscience require of 
him in the matter. And now, after much prayer, 
he resolves to obey God rather than men, and to 
refuse submission to a cruel intolerance that would 
leave dark multitudes around him to perish in 
their ignorance and sin. Accordingly he resumes 
the usual services all through the circuit, com- 
mending himself and his cause to God, and calmly 
awaiting the result, prepared to bring to a legal 
test, if need be, the authority assumed by the 



The Martyr Missionary. 91 

magistrates of St. Ann's. For some weeks he is 
suffered to go on unmolested, he and his brethren 
earnestly and confidently looking forward to the 
time when his majesty's disallowance of the per- 
secuting law now in operation shall be signified to 
the governor. The rector and the magistrates 
also have some fearful anticipations of a similar 
kind, having probably received through the agent 
in London some intimation of the doom which is 
impending at the Colonial Office over this offspring 
of their intolerance, and while the unrighteous law 
is still operative, they resolve to strike another 
blow. One day, during service at Ocho Rios, the 
missionary and congregation see the repulsive 

countenance of peering into the chapel and 

around it. This is justly regarded as an omen of 
evil, for the presence of that man, like some bird 
of prey, augurs nothing that is good. No one, 
therefore, is surprised that on the following day 
the missionary finds himself again in the custody 
of this spy, to be carried before the magistrates on 
the old charge of preaching to slaves in an unli- 
censed house, with the additional complaint of 
having married one slave to another without con- 
sent of the owner. The magistrates are, for the 
most part, as before, pliant and illiterate tools of 
the slaveholding rector. In vain the prisoner 
pleads that he has done all the law requires, and 
that, the house being certified, it is the fault of 
the magistrates themselves that it is not recorded, 
they having exercised an illegal power in refusing 
his application. In vain he pleads that he has 



92 Romance Without Fiction. 

violated no law by marrying the slave to the ob- 
ject of her choice, since none exists in the colony 
referring to marriage at all. (He might have 
added that, until the missionaries introduced it, 
marriage was little known among any class of the 
people, and among slaves and colored people quite 
unknown.) As in the former case, the magistrates 
have come together to do only what they and their 
friend the rector had already resolved upon, and 
the persecuted servant of Christ is again handed 
over to ruffianly keeping, and taken back to the 
same unwholesome cell with which he is already 
familiar. 

The place is indescribably odious, and produces 
loathing, which he seeks to counteract, as before, 
by the use of camphorated spirit, and other simi- 
lar means. This time he is committed for trial at 
the sessions, and not for a definite term of impris- 
onment. Bail is, therefore, sought and tendered 
for his appearance before the court ; but difficul- 
ties are thrown in the way, and it is not until after 
the lapse of several days that the bail is accepted, 
and the suffering prisoner set at liberty. It is, 
alas ! too late to save his life. He has never fully 
recovered from the effects of his former imprison- 
ment. The deadly poison, inhaled during ten 
days' close confinement, is still lurking in his 
veins, corrupting the vital fluid, and weakening 
the citadel of life; and now, every hour that he 
breathes that polluted atmosphere, the subtle 
venom diffused through his system is quickened 
into activity, his strength is rapidly diminishing, 



The Martyr Missionary. 93 

and he is being hurried to the grave. It is, doubt- 
less, the report of the prisoner's failing health 
made by the jailer that induces the magistrates 
to accept the proffered bail. Had he remained 
within those prison walls a day or two longer he 
would scarcely have survived to pass through the 
gates. As it is, more serious effects than those of 
many years of wasting toil have been produced by 
a few days' imprisonment. Faint and exhausted, 
and almost dying, he is borne back to his mount- 
ain home, to leave it no more till he ascends to 
that better home above, " the palace of angels and 
God." The cool and balmy air of the uplands re- 
vives him a little, and for a short time he seems 
likely to rally ; but the seeds of fatal disease are 
within him, and the king of terrors has been per- 
mitted to mark him as his prey. The poison 
which has undermined all the powers of life is 
developed in a lingering fever, such as no medical 
skill can check, and it soon becomes evident to 
his weeping young wife that she must shortly be a 
widow, and her infant fatherless.. Friends sur- 
round the bed of death, and do all that love can 
dictate for the relief of the sufferer. At intervals, 
when delirium ceases, he speaks sweetly of the all- 
sufficiency of Divine grace, and the preciousness 
of the sprinkled blood, until on the fifteenth day, 
waving his hand in triumph, and with a counte- 
nance all radiant, this witness for the Lord, while 
yet in the prime of youthful manhood, passes to 
the blessed spirit-land, to be numbered among 
those glorified ones who have resisted unto blood, 



94 Romance Without Fiction. 

and counted not their lives dear unto themselves, 
so that they might finish their course with joy. On 
the following day, amid the tears and lamentations 
of white and black, bond and free, the deserted 
clay is laid in that lowly grave, which afterward 
discolored by time, met the eye of the traveler amid 
the ruins of the mission station at Belmont. 

These things might not have been had it pleased 
unerring Providence to spare the life of the Chris- 
tian owner of these broad lands. But that good 
man has been sleeping in his family vault nearly a 
year, and his ransomed spirit is enjoying an end- 
less rest. Methodism found him "floating upon 
a sea of skepticism," believing nothing, fearing 
every thing, and proving the bitter truth of those 
words of heavenly wisdom, though he knew them 
not, " The wicked are like the troubled sea, when 
it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and 
dirt." The first sermon he heard from a mission- 
ary's lips, (on John iii, 3,) before he sought the 
interview related in the foregoing pages, made a 
deep impression on his heart. Through God's 
blessing upon it that discourse let in a flood of 
light, altogether new, on his bewildered mind. It 
reached his conscience, and awakened it to an 
activity long unknown. It produced what he had 
never felt or imagined before — 

" The godly fear, the pleasing smart, 
The meltings of a broken heart." 

And soon his doubts were solved, and all the dark 
clouds of skepticism dispersed, when he came, a 



The Martyr Missionary. 95 

self-condemned sinner, to Jesus, and by simple 
faith obtained "redemption through his blood, 
even the forgiveness of sins." At once he took 
active part in the Lord's service. Defying re- 
proach and opposition, he opened the way for the 
establishment of a mission station in the parish 
where he lived, rejoiced over the conversion of 
his wife and daughter and the Christian instruc- 
tion of his slaves, became himself a devoted class- 
leader and local preacher, gave land and timber 
for mission buildings on his own estate, and also 
at St. Ann's Bay, and boldly vindicated the truth 
which had been to him " the power of God unto 
salvation " both in the pulpit and with the pen,* 
as well as by the silent, powerful eloquence of a 
blameless, benevolent, and holy life. How in- 
scrutable is the Providence which took away such 
a man at such a time ! Had his life been pro- 
longed he would have stood by the persecuted 
missionary, and there is little doubt that his influ- 
ence in the parish, as a magistrate greatly respect- 
ed, added to his eminent legal ability, would have 
been more than a match for the cunning of the rec- 
tor and all his associates. He had been failing in 

* Mr. Drew was the author of a well- written work, in two 
octavo volumes, entitled, " Principles of Self-knowledge ; or, 
an Attempt to Demonstrate the Truth of Christianity, and the 
Efficacy of Experimental Religion, against the Cavils of the 
Infidel and the Objections of the Formalist." These volumes 
passed through the press under the supervision of the well- 
known Samuel Drew, A.M., but their author did not live to 
see them in print. 



g6 Romance Without Fiction. 

vigor for some time, but the wicked outrage by 
which it was attempted to destroy the lives of Mr. 
Ratcliffe and his family at St. Ann's Bay, by 
means of a gang of ruffians, had called forth all 
Mr. Drew's energies to trace and bring to punish- 
ment the lawless band, some of whom were well 
known. Having, in his capacity of magistrate, set 
matters in train for a thorough investigation, he 
returned home, but it was to die, his exertions 
having probably exceeded what his sinking health 
could endure. Before the inquiry could be pushed 
to any important result his little remaining strength 
finally gave way, and, to the grief of the mission- 
aries, and the still deeper distress of his excellent 
wife and family, he passed away in blessed triumph 
to the Church before the throne. Just before he 
had put forth literally a dying effort in singing 
the beautiful words — 

" I know that my Redeemer lives, 

And ever prays for me ; 
A token of his love he gives, 

A pledge of liberty." 

Among other utterances on his death bed, he 
said to one of the missionaries, who was express- 
ing his regret that one so useful should be taken 
away at such a crisis, u I am but a poor worm ; 
there is no room for boasting. I cannot look to 
any thing that I have done. The whole science 
of divinity is compressed into a very narrow com- 
pass : 

" * I the chief of sinners am, 
But Jesus died for me!'" 



The Martyr Missionary. 97 

Mr. Drew has left behind him a family of chil- 
dren, and a widow like-minded with himself, who 
enters fully into all the plans of large-hearted be- 
nevolence which he formed and partly executed. 
A lady of energetic and well-cultivated mind, she 
carries on, with excellent results, the management 
of the estate. But how dark and inexplicable are 
God's ways ! Only one short year has elapsed 
since the martyred Grimsdall was laid in his 
"narrow cell " — two years since her husband 
ascended to the skies— when, after a brief illness, 
this excellent lady is summoned to rejoin her be- 
loved companion in the better land, and an orphan 
family is left to deplore an irreparable loss. When 
this new affliction occurs persecution is still rag- 
ing, and the rector and magistrates, stung almost 
to madness by the disallowance of their malevo- 
lent "slave law," are imprisoning missionaries, 
and stretching their authority beyond all bounds 
in defiance alike of justice and of law. The pain- 
ful bereavement meanwhile brings a still darker 
cloud over the prospects of the mission, and gives 
the rector fresh opportunities of pursuing his de- 
signs. The estate and affairs of Belmont (the 
children being mostly young) fall into the hands 
of an executor or trustee who has no sympathy 
with the religious views of Mr. Drew. Had the 
excellent widow's life been prolonged until all her 
children attained their majority (the thing too 
fondly anticipated) there is little doubt that they 
would have become parties to the deed of con- 
veyance required for finally securing the land on 



98 Romance Without Fiction. 

which the mission premises were erected, both at 
Belmont and St. Ann's Bay. But, unhappily, an 
opportunity is now presented for reclaiming the 
land and driving the " sectarians " from the parish, 
a chance which may not be allowed to pass away 
unimproved. The land is of little intrinsic value, 
and there would be no unwillingness to indemnify 
the estate held on trust for the children's benefit 
by giving compensation to the largest amount at 
which it could be fairly appraised. But the 
trustee is fully under the influence of the rector, 
who will be satisfied with nothing less than wrest- 
ing the property out of the hands of the Method- 
ists. The premises have now become valuable, 
for many hundreds of pounds, contributed partly 
by the poor slaves from what their small provision 
grounds have yielded, but chiefly by the Society 
in London, have been expended in erecting those 
neat and commodious buildings — chapel, dwelling, 
etc. — which adorn the station. But what cares 
that man (minister of a just and holy religion 
though he professes to be) for the unrighteousness 
of laying violent hands on the property of others 
to which the estate could have no moral claim ? 
If the religious services there instituted for the 
good of the negroes can be broken up he will re- 
joice as one that findeth great spoil 

The demand to vacate and give up the mission 
property, chapels, residence and all, both at Bel- 
mont and St. Ann's Bay, is in due course made. 
Before that is complied with the best legal advice 
to be had in the island is taken, and the conclu- 



The Martyr Missionary. 99 

sion is reached, that it is most advisable, on the 
whole, not to risk in costs of uncertain litigation 
money which may afford material help in provid- 
ing other places of worship. To the very deep 
sorrow of hundreds, the beautiful station at Bel- 
mont, and the premises at St. Ann's Bay, are ulti- 
mately abandoned. 

But the chief designs of the persecutors are not 
accomplished, nor is the work of the Lord entirely 
frustrated. The poor people, hundreds of whom 
were " born for glory " on that spot, having there 
heard the joyful sound of that truth which makes 
men spiritually free, weep and mourn over the 
loss of their pleasant sanctuary, and of some of the 
means of grace ; but the mission is not broken up, 
.as its enemies confidently expected. The great 
Head of the Church raises up instruments suited 
to the accomplishment of his own purposes. So it 
is in this case. The martyred Grimsdall has been 
succeeded by a missionary not easily daunted or 
discouraged. With quiet yet earnest resolution, 
ready to endure or to do any thing the occasion may 
require, he confronts the opposers, and addresses 
himself to the emergency of this case, cheering 
the hearts of the suffering people, not only to the 
point of patient endurance, but of joyful hope. 
After some difficulty he succeeds in obtaining for 
hire a house (or, rather, what looks very much 
like the half of a house which has been cut in two) 
called " Blackheath," within two or three miles of 
Belmont. It is sufficient for the accommodation 
of his own family, but not to receive the large 

1 



ioo Romance Without Fiction. 

congregation wont to assemble in the chapel. In 
the adjacent pasture, however, there are majestic 
trees, whose wide -spreading branches afford a 
delightful protection from the scorching sun-rays. 
And here, Sabbath after Sabbath, the people as- 
semble, bond and free ; not discouraged, though 
a heavy shower, such as Europeans seldom witness, 
sometimes sends them dripping to their homes. 
The surrounding hills echo with their songs of 
praise ; and, sitting all around the minister upon 
the grass, they listen with moist and eager eyes to 
the truth that saves. The novelty of this open 
field worship, and the sympathy felt with the con- 
gregation driven from its place of worship, bring 
additional numbers from all the country round to 
attend these pleasant services, and the power of 
Jehovah is there to slay and to save. Beneath 
the thick branches of those fine cedars, many 
hearts are pierced with conviction of sin, and not 
a few are brought into the glorious liberty of the 
children of God. It is a reanimating scene ; one 
of great rural beauty, and of more than earthly 
grandeur ; a scene over which seraphs might hover 
with ecstatic joy. There is a congregation large- 
ly made up of negro slaves, in clean but humble 
apparel, bowing before God, and learning the way 
to heaven. Words cannot describe the eager at- 
tention with which they listen as the missionary 
expatiates, with thrilling eloquence, on the words, 
" What meanest thou, O sleeper ? arise, call 
upon thy God, if so be that God will think upon 
us, that we perish not." Jonah i, 6. It is no 



The Martyr Missionary. 101 

fancy sketch. These eyes beheld it; and these 
ears listened there to a much-loved friend who 
discoursed on the text just cited; while " thoughts 
that breathe, and words that burn," fell from lips 
now hushed in the silence of the grave. 

In process of time the ejected congregation 
obtain, through the liberality of English friends, 
the gift of a large tent, which is erected there in 
the pasture, affording shelter to as many as its 
dimensions will accommodate, when the clouds 
drop their fatness upon the earth. The persecu- 
tors have the mortification of seeing that the work 
they hate goes on more prosperously than ever. 
It becomes necessary to divide the congregation, 
for they gather in crowds from places miles dis- 
tant on either side. Divine Providence opens the 
way. Land is offered for sale in favorable locali- 
ties. Two beautiful and convenient sites are pro- 
cured, just in the midst of the people, some six or 
seven miles apart. It is no discouragement that 
for many months the divided congregation has to 
worship one part in the field, the other part in the 
forest, canopied by giant trees, until the arrange- 
ments for building are completed. At length, 
through the liberal contributions of the people on 
the spot, and of friends of missions in England, 
two neat, commodious, and substantial houses of 
prayer are reared, capable of containing at least 
three times as many as the desecrated sanctuary 
at Belmont. Thus God, in his boundless wisdom, 
evolves good out of the evil, and makes the wrath 
of man to praise him. Near the larger of these 



102 Romance Without Fiction. 

two mountain sanctuaries stands the missionary's 
comfortable residence. The principal road through 
the island gracefully winds round the foot of the 
hill, passing between the mission house and chapel ; 
while the rural station, and the numerous cottages 
of the emancipated peasantry thickly studding 
the neighborhood all around, add new and lively 
features to a most beautiful landscape. 

But Belmont has gone to ruin. After the change 
of management it soon ceased to be the prosperous, 
productive estate it had been. Its rich herds of 
cattle no longer yielded any remunerative return ; 
the pasture walls became dilapidated, and were 
suffered to remain without repair; and the fine 
stone buildings fell into decay. But God has 
taken care of the orphan children. Of the chapel, 
in the rearing of which so many hearts were glad- 
dened, there are now only fragments. How different 
it was when hallowed as the place where Jehovah 
Jesus was worshiped ! How different it might 
have been still ! Such are the thoughts of the 
missionary visitor as, awaking from the long rev- 
erie in which he has been indulging, he observes 
that the shades of evening are gathering darkly 
around him. Mounting his horse, and casting 
one more look upon the ruin, he turns away with 
saddened, chastened, grateful feeling, and bids a 
last farewell to the grave of the martyred 

MISSIONARY. 



Judgment Hill. 103 



IV. 

Judgment Hill 

Oft o'er the Eden islands of the "West. 

In floral pomp and verdant beauty drest, 

Eolls the dark cloud of God's awakened ire ; 

Thunder and earthquake, whirlwind, flood, and fire, 

'Midst reeling mountains and disparting plains, 

Tell the pale world. " The God of vengeance reigns."' 

Montgomery. 

<^. 

the interior of Jamaica, at no great distance 



F* 



JlL from Kingston, the mercantile capital of the 
island, a spot is pointed out which bears the 
remarkable designation u The Judgment Hill," 
from having been a little more than a half a cen- 
tury ago the scene of a startling catastrophe, 
which impressed many persons, who were but little 
accustomed to any thing like serious reflection, 
with the conviction that it is a fearful thing to 
brave the anger, and " fall into the hands, of the 
living God." 

In the more easterly of the parishes into which 
Jamaica is divided there are several wide river- 
courses, which collect and bear to the ocean the 
drainings of the majestic chain of mountains that 
lift their summits some seven or eight thousand 
feet above the level of the Caribbean Sea, which 
they overlook, and from which they are often 
clearly visible to mariners at a distance of seventy 



104 Romance Without Fiction. 

or eighty miles. One of these rivers, receiving the 
waterfall on the southern slope of the Port Royal 
and St. David's mountains, flows in a south-easterly 
direction for more than thirty miles. Ordinarily, 
in dry weather, the narrow stream of limpid water, 
formed by the contributions of many rivulets 
gurgling down the hollows and ravines between 
the hills, rushes with rapid current over the stony 
bottom of the deep channel, sufficiently shallow to 
be fordable at numerous points, and leaving a 
large portion of the river bed perfectly dry. But 
the immense boulders, and masses of smooth rock, 
scattered in vast numbers over the wide, gravelly 
bed of the river, being brought down by the force 
of the stream, and the torn and rugged banks on 
either side, bear silent witness to the irresistible 
power with which, in the wet season, the mighty 
mass of turbid water, swollen by a thousand rush- 
ing torrents, rolls on to its destination. 

Among the hills through which this river winds, 
and stretching along its banks, there is a planta- 
tion beautifully situated in a curve formed by the 
sinuosities of its course. The rich, well-tilled 
fields of the plantation, waving with the luxuriant 
sugar-cane, occupy the plain between the deep 
river-course and the foot of the hills. At a little 
distance from the stream, the buildings pertaining 
to the estate have been erected. Prominent 
among these is the great house occupied by the 
proprietor and his family ; and scattered around 
are the miserable huts of the slaves, upon whom 
devolves the weary, unrequited task of cultivating 



Judgment Hill. 105 

for their owner several hundred acres of land 
which the estate comprises ; themselves shut up 
in densest ignorance, and knowing no enjoyment 
of life but that which they have in common with 
the mules and cattle, that share with them the 
wasting toil of the plantation. 

Immediately behind these several buildings 
there towers a lofty mountain, rising precipitately 
from the gentle slopes whereon the buildings stand, 
lifting its verdure-crowned head nearly a thousand 
feet to the clouds, and overshadowing the planta- 
tion buildings and the river. All kinds of rich 
tropical fruits, sheltered here from every unkindly 
bla'st, flourish in abundance, the mango, the orange, 
the shaddock, the star-apple, and the lime. Every 
hut is embowered in a grove of plantains and 
bananas, whose large velvet-like leaves afford a 
grateful shelter from the sun ; while the lofty plume 
of the cocoa-nut waves in graceful beauty above, 
and imparts to the whole scene a character of trop- 
ical luxuriance with which we may well associate 
the idea of an earthly paradise. 

Satan and sin obtained admission into Eden, 
and they have found an entrance here. Ungodli- 
ness and vice, in some of their foulest develop- 
ments, pervade the colony ; darkness prevails 
every-where, except where the few missionaries 
that are laboring in the midst of much hatred and 
opposition have diffused, in some measure, the 
light of the ever-blessed Gospel. All classes, 
masters and slaves, whites and blacks, are sunk in 
deep moral debasement together. But in this se- 



106 Romance Without Fiction. 

eluded plantation, surrounded as it is with scenes 
of surpassing natural loveliness, there is a den of 
vice and pollution, to which no parallel can be 
found in all this wicked land. A monster of 
wickedness, who has given himself up to work all 
uncleanness with greediness, the owner of that 
lovely spot, has converted it into- such a sink of 
loathsome, nameless depravity, that all the neigh- 
bors for miles around stand aloof from him and all 
that pertain to him, and hold no avoidable com- 
munication with the place. It is shunned by all 
classes of the people, as if a deadly pestilence were 
known to be raging there. 

In no country under heaven is there to be found 
less of every thing like prudery than here in Ja- 
maica. The moral standard is deplorably low; 
and vicious, licentious habits, disregard of moral 
obligations, and forgetfulness of God, are prevalent 
throughout the land. But here is a household so 
utterly abandoned and vile in their associations 
and habits that even the low degraded society of 
Jamaica scorns them as its outcasts, and turns 
away from them with loathing. No planter from 
the surrounding estates calls to take a friendly 
glass with the overseer, who is also the owner of 
the plantation. No neighbor goes to render 
friendly offices in time of sickness ; and even the 
medical man, who periodically visits the hot-house 
(the hospital) of the estates, and prescribes 
medicine for the slaves disabled by sickness from 
taking their usual place in the field, lingers not, 
as he does on all the other plantations he attends. 



"Judgment Hill. 107 

to dine or hold a carouse with the magnate of the 
estate. 

Year after year passes away, but still the man 
and his estate are shunned ; for the lapse of time 
only serves to develop more and more the God- 
defying wickedness which is not only practiced 
but boasted of there ; awakening more and more 
fully the indignation and disgust of all around to- 
ward the depraved denizens of that secluded 
habitation, among whom all decency and propriety 
are set at naught, and the natural relations and 
distinctions known in families are utterly con- 
founded and lost. There are some who look on 
the place with fear and trembling, as well as 
loathing ; half expecting that this den of wicked- 
ness, with its associations of depravity, will be 
dealt with in some such way as the Just and Holy 
One dealt with the guilty inhabitants of Sodom 
and Gomorrah. 

The owner of the plantation has become hoary 
in his evil career, and wealth has been increasing 
in his hands, serving only to promote strife and 
discord among the incestuous brood of which he 
is tke head ; when the hand of Jehovah is lifted 
up, and that event occurs, the memorial of which 
is handed down in the designation that stands at 
the head of this paper. 

Jamaica has often been fearfully desolated by 
the hurricane and the earthquake, causing a 
lamentable destruction of property and life, and 
sometimes throughout vast districts changing the 
whole aspect of the country. It was on the 18th 



io8 Romance Without Fiction. 

and 19th of October, one of the months usually in- 
cluded in what is known as the hurricane season, 
when a destructive storm swept over the eastern 
parishes of the island, accompanied, as effects 
would seem to indicate, by severe shocks of earth- 
quake. A preternatural discharge of water from 
the heavens destroyed many sugar and coffee plan- 
tations, sweeping off all vegetation, or burying it, 
to the depth of many feet, beneath the earth and 
stones and sand which the descending torrents 
wash down from the neighboring mountains. 
The swollen rivers overflowed their banks, the 
rushing waters bearing all before them, and pro- 
ducing a scene of devastation, extending from 
shore to shore over a length of fifty miles, that 
defies all description. Many vessels were stranded 
on the coast ; and upon the land the victims of 
this struggle "of the elements, who had the good 
fortune to escape with life, lost all their property. 
The descent of huge masses of earth and rock 
from the sides of the hills could be compared only 
to the avalanches in the valleys of the Alps ; and 
the features of the country were so materially al- 
tered by the dynamic sweep of the floods, ri\»ers, 
and water-courses, and all well-known landmarks 
so entirely obliterated, that survivors found great 
difficulty in ascertaining, with any thing like cer- 
tainty, the true localities which they were entitled 
to call their own. This difficulty was modified 
by the great destruction of life occasioned 
by the hurricane ; whole families being swept 
away, leaving no survivor to raise a question 



Judgment Hill. 109 

concerning the titles and boundaries Of their 
property. 

This is the case with the fine plantation occupy- 
ing so pleasant a site near the margin of the river, 
and converted into such a scene of impurity and 
wickedness by the abandoned family claiming it 
as their home. The morning of the day on which 
this appalling calamity passes over the land finds 
them, as many mornings have found them, all care- 
less and secure, without a thought of God, and 
without any idea of danger hovering near. Exten- 
sive fields are waving with the ripening canes. 
Trees laden with luscious fruit are all around. 
Large bunches of cocoa-nuts in every stage of 
growth hang from the ever-fruitful trees, which, by 
their continual productiveness, may well symbolize 
the Tree of Life in the vision of the apocalyptic 
writer, that yielded her fruit every month. The 
white buildings of the estate peep out through the 
openings of the trees, as with gentle, graceful mo- 
tion they yield to the pressure of the slightest 
movement of the air ; the whole landscape, with 
its alternations of hill and dale, exhibiting a scene 
of bright beauty, to be seen nowhere but in the 
regions situated within or near to the tropical 
lines. The next morning breaks upon a scene of 
desolation, exhibiting no traces of the earthly 
paradise on which the sun shed his fervent rays 
only a few hours before. 

It has been swept with the besom of destruction, 
and the plantation, with its buildings, its culti- 
vated fields and fruitful groves, its slaves and cat- 



no Romance Without Fiction. 

tie, whose toil extracted richness and wealth from 
the soil, together with the great house and all its 
miserable inhabitants, have been blotted from the 
face of the creation. The overthrow is as com- 
plete as that which overwhelmed the polluted 
cities of the plain. No living creature belonging 
to the place remains to tell the tale of woe, and 
scarcely a vestige of the once lovely estate is to 
be found. 

The center of the hurricane has passed over this 
vicinity, and its utmost violence has fallen upon 
the spot where the justice and purity of the Al- 
mighty has long been daringly outraged. The 
fair, cloudless, but oppressively sultry morning 
has been followed by the gathering of thick black 
banks of cloud upon the eastern sky, and the om- 
inous moaning of the wind, betokening the coming 
tempest— 6igns too well understood by the inhab- 
itants of tropical regions. As the sun slowly de- 
scends to the westward these precursors of coming 
evil become more decided and unmistakable, and 
at length the tornado bursts upon the land in all 
its desolating fury, a violence which can only be 
justly appreciated by those who have witnessed a 
West India hurricane. The danger is aggravated 
by the dense darkness of the night. Many are 
crushed beneath their falling dwellings, while 
numbers of lives are sacrificed in the attempt to 
gain through rushing torrents some desired place 
of refuge. 

But a peculiar catastrophe seals the fate of this 
plantation and its inhabitants. That to which 



judgment HilL in 

they probably looked for safety becomes their 
destruction. Snugly sheltered beneath the shad- 
ows of the lofty mountain, they might well fancy 
themselves far less exposed to peril than many of 
their neighbors, whose habitations were open to 
the utmost fury of the elements. But uplifted by 
some invisible force — probably the stupendous 
power of the earthquake — during the midnight 
darkness, the mountain is moved from its founda- 
tions and thrown prostrate in wild confusion on 
the plain and into the river, burying beneath its 
enormous masses every building of the plantation, 
and every soul existing upon it. They, and all 
belonging to them, have disappeared from human 
ken, as if they had never been ; as when God, in 
his anger, caused the earth to open her mouth and 
swallow up Korah, Dathan, and Abiram ; and their 
houses, and all that appertained unto them, went 
down into the pit, and the earth closed upon them, 
and they perished miserably. So were this planter 
and his family, and all his goods, buried in a mo- 
ment out of sight of men, their immortal spirits 
passing suddenly to an unchanging doom, with all 
their sins and pollutions fresh upon them. 

To make the destruction more complete, the 
fallen mountain dammed up the river, already 
swollen to overflowing, until the mass of accumu- 
lated waters, forcing their own way, and making 
fresh channels for themselves, bear away in their 
desolating progress whatever the hurricane has 
failed to destroy. When morning dawns through 
the still raging tempest not a living creature re- 



H2 Romance Without Fiction. 

mains ; every trace of cultivation has disappeared, 
and the very outlines of the plantation have been 
so completely obliterated that it is difficult to tell 
exactly where it lay. All belonging to the estate 
that is not buried beneath the upturned mountain 
has been borne far away by the flood to the Carib- 
bean Sea, except some carcases of human beings 
or beasts lodged in crevices or bushes by the 
rushing waters on their course, and left there to 
become the prey of the ravenous vulture. 

" I will make thy grave ; for thou art vile," Je- 
hovah said when Nineveh was rapidly filling up 
the measure of her iniquities ; and beneath the 
crumbling earth of her own massive walls and 
palaces he buried the city which had been the 
scene of so much that was abominable in his sight. 
And there, hidden in the dust from all human 
search, she remained during the lapse of many 
centuries, thus fulfilling his own faithful word : 
" The wicked shall be cut off from the earth, and 
the transgressors shall be rooted out of it." So in 
this instance, after many years of longsuffering and 
forbearance, his hand is lifted up against the evil- 
doers, and overwhelms them with such manifest 
tokens of a divine visitation that even in Jamaica, 
where there is little recognition of God, his justice 
in the event is acknowledged, and the scene of the 
catastrophe is distinguished by the designation of 
Judgment Hill. 



The Assassin. 113 



i 



v. 

The Assassin. 

Blood hath strange organs to discourse withal ; 

It is a clam'rous orator, and then 

E"en nature will exceed herself to tell 

A crime so thwarting nature. — Gomeesall. 

£$\URING seventeen years that I spent in 
A-Jr Jamaica, extending over one of the most 
eventful periods of its history, it fell to my 
lot to reside for several years in the St. Ann's 
Mountains. St. Ann's is one of the north-side 
parishes, and, because of its surpassing loveliness, 
is frequently spoken of as ' ; The Garden of Ja- 
maica." The designation is not, however, very 
well chosen, as its beautiful and varied scenery 
more resembles that of a wide-spread park than a 
garden, for it is the wild, impressive grandeur of 
nature that greets the eye rather than the elegance 
and beauty which speak of the taste and handi- 
work of man. The far-stretching forests, clothed 
with the perennial verdure of never-ending spring; 
the bold ranges of mountains, burying their lofty 
summits in the clouds ; the green slopes and deep 
ravines ; the vast pasture-fields, waving with lux- 
uriant Guinea grass, and studded with thousands 
of majestic cedars, varied by the rich orange or 
graceful pimento-tree, exhibit scenes of enchant- 



H4 Romance Without Fiction. 

ing interest to the traveler throughout most of 
this extensive parish, the garden-like scenery of 
which it can boast being confined to the narrow 
strip of land skirting the shore. Devoted to the 
culture of the sugar-cane, and marked here and 
there with the huge piles of building included in 
the works of the plantations, here are displayed 
more evident traces of human skill and toil than 
in that larger portion of the parish which is chiefly 
occupied by breeders of stock, and divided into 
cattle farms or pens, as such properties are 
usually called, and which are largely overspread 
with the fragrant pimento, yielding in rich abun- 
dance the " allspice " known to commerce. 

One of the peculiarities of this part of the island 
is the existence of numerous "sink-holes," large 
openings in the earth, communicating with subter- 
raneous passages by means of which the drainage of 
the towering hills — that in other parts of the island 
creates innumerable beautiful rivulets, forming in 
their aggregate considerable rivers — is borne off 
invisibly toward the coast ; where, bursting out 
from their mountain caverns, large streams, gath- 
ered in the bowels of the mountains, rush to the 
sea, exhibiting in several instances cascades of 
great majesty and beauty. These " sink-holes " 
are generally to be found deep down in some val- 
ley, the character of the ground around them 
plainly indicating their existence ; but occasion- 
ally such openings are to be met with on more 
level ground, where nothing whatever gives a sign 
of danger, grass and brush growing over the edges 



The Assassin. 115 

of the aperture, and concealing it from observa- 
tion, until the unwary victim, apprehensive of no 
peril, steps over the brink of the treacherous 
chasm, and disappears to be seen no more. One 
or two instances occurred during my residence in 
the neighborhood, of sportsmen, eager in the pur- 
suit of game, being lost in this way — dropping in 
a moment from the very midst of life and enjoy- 
ment into a deep, unfathomable grave. 

In the south-western part of the parish there is 
such an opening to the subterranean passages in 
the mountains possessing a kind of historical in- 
terest, and visited by the curious as one of the 
lions of Jamaica. It is known as " Hutchinson's 
Hole," because of its association with one of those 
shocking tragedies which, being attended by cir- 
cumstances of unusual horror, stand out promi- 
nently and permanently in the annals of crime. 
Xear to it is the ruin of what was formerly the 
residence of the individual who figured as the prin- 
cipal actor in the catalogue of atrocities which gave 
him an unenviable celebrity, and caused his name 
to be handed down to posterity as the designation of 
one of the most sanguinary monsters that ever de- 
lighted in the shedding of innocent blood. The 
ruin is still known as "Hutchinson's Tower." 

Accompanied by a friend, I devoted a day to 
visiting this somewhat celebrated spot. We mount- 
ed our horses after an early breakfast, and riding 
some two miles through very charming scenery, 
arrived at a center where several roads met, known 
as the " Finger-Post," from the fact that an article 



n6 Romance Without Fiction. 

of that description was erected there by the par- 
ish, to afford travelers useful information, long 
before the existence of the village now risen in 
the locality bearing the same name. Directing 
our course according to the indications of this si- 
lent monitor,"we set our faces in the direction of 
" The Pedroes." For two or three miles our road 
lay through uncleared forest, here and there bro- 
ken in upon by the rude cottage of the negro set- 
tler, who, having after emancipation saved money 
sufficient to purchase a small freehold, had here 
set himself down with his family, in indignant inde- 
pendence of the planters, whose stupid folly, 
equaled only by their reckless malignity, sought, 
by systematic fraud and oppression whenever op- 
portunity offered, to avenge upon the people the 
crime of having received their freedom. But after 
a little while we rode through the open, pleasant 
pastures of cattle-farms, overspreading a beautiful 
vale, and hemmed in by mountains of consider- 
able altitude, covered with rows of coffee-trees 
and crowned with massive buildings, consisting of 
the coffee-works and barbecues of the plantations, 
and the stately mansions of the proprietors. After 
a ride of several miles we arrived at Edinburgh 
Castle — the name given to the grazing farm to 
which our visit was directed. 

Situated in the gorge of the mountains, which rise 
abruptly to a considerable height on either hand, 
there is a hill whose precipitous sides seem to for- 
bid the further advance of the traveler, until he 
finds that the narrow road winds around its base. 



The Assassin. 117 

• 

At the summit, looking right down upon the road, 
is a ruined tower, partly concealed by the large 
trees which have grown up around and covered it 
with their branches. Further up the mountain 
gorge the hill gradually slopes off to a level with 
the road, affording easy access to the tower in that 
direction. Continuing our ride, and leaving the 
tower it may be a quarter of a mile behind us, we 
turned out of the road, and, passing through the 
adjoining field, descended into a deep hollow, 
around which the mountains slope upward in all 
directions, forming a vast natural basin, rugged 
with numerous channels, through which in the 
rainy seasons the rushing waters descend to find an 
outlet. Deep down at the bottom of this basin, 
surrounded by a wall to keep the cattle out of 
danger, and overshadowed by the dense foli- 
age of a large clump of cedars, we came upon a 
yawning abyss, several yards in diameter, down 
which the waters find their course through unseen 
channels to the sea. Clambering over the wall, 
we looked down into " Hutchinson's Hole," not 
without a feeling akin to awe and terror, which 
was increased when, casting down several large 
stones, a considerable time elapsed before a splash 
or rumbling sound came back, to testify the im- 
mense depth they had descended before meeting 
with any obstruction to their fall. 

About the middle of the last century the tower 
dignified with the name of " Edinburgh Castle " 
was occupied by a Scotchman named Lewis 
Hutchinson, who was the owner of the farm or 



n8 Romance Without Fiction. 

pen on which it stood. Right across the farm 
stretched the narrow defile through which wound 
the only road that in those days afforded ordinary 
means of communication between the north and 
south sides of the country. Hutchinson had not 
only acquired the farm, but had also, by some 
means, become the owner of a sufficient number 
of slaves to perform all the labor the estate re-, 
quired ; and he had stocked the farm with cattle 
strayed or stolen from his neighbors. He lived in 
the tower alone, or surrounded only by slaves 
brought from Africa, and purchased from the slave- 
ships, which then openly carried on the horrible 
traffic in stolen human beings, unchecked by pub- 
lic opinion, and under the full protection of the. 
British flag. He held very little intercourse with 
his neighbors ; for, though none suspected that he 
was the monster of crime he turned out to be, yet, 
exhibiting a morose and gloomy character, he was 
generally shunned, and few cared to hold any in- 
tercourse with him beyond that which the ordi- 
nary business of life rendered unavoidable. But 
the occupant of that lonely tower was an assassin 
who made a trade of murder, and luxuriated in 
the deliberate slaughter of his fellow-men. There 
was then but little communication between the 
two sides of the island, and that was chiefly car- 
ried on by small coasting vessels, running round 
the eastern or western extremities of the land. 
Very few persons ventured to climb the rugged 
sides of the mountain which the Spaniards named 
" Diavola," and then wind their dreary way 



The Assassin. 119 

through the lonely wooded defiles affording the 
only means of passage by land from one coast to 
the other. 

The terror of the journey was increased by the 
fact that it had been attempted by many persons 
who had never reached their destination or been 
heard of again. By what means they had perished 
none could guess. Whether cut off by freebooters, 
or carried off by Maroons to their inaccessible 
fastnesses in the forest-covered mountains, never 
could be ascertained. They disappeared leaving 
no trace behind; and the mystery was explained 
only when the atrocities of Hutchinson were 
brought to light. Then it transpired that they 
had fallen by his hand, and that the numerous 
travelers who, in attempting to cross over the 
island, had dropped out of life as suddenly as if 
the earth had opened and swallowed them up, and 
residents of the neighborhood who had also mys- 
teriously disappeared, and were supposed to have 
been ingulfed by the treacherous sink-holes in 
the vicinity, had been the victims of as revolting 
a system of treachery and cruelty as ever cast a 
dark shadow upon the history of any country. 

It was not necessity that drove him to the per- 
petration of crimes worthy of the Thugs of Hin- 
dostan, for he was wealthy ; nor, although unscru- 
pulous as to the means he employed to increase 
his substance, was it altogether the love of gain. 
Of a savage, misanthropical disposition, intensified 
by some real or imaginary injury inflicted upon 
him in his early life, he cherished a fierce, unnatu- 



120 Romance Without Fiction. 

ral detestation of the human race, and a mor- 
bid taste for blood, until the contemplation of 
human agony became his chief delight, and 
his morose and hardened soul found its high- 
est gratification in destroying human life. Mur- 
der became his study and occupation ; and it was 
said of him, as gathered from the testimony of 
his most trusted slave, who survived his master 
many years, that if his destined victim were infirm 
or sick, he carefully attended to him, and revived 
his strength ; or if he could behold him first in 
fancied security, in the convivial assembly, or per- 
haps in the bosom of his family, it gave him greater 
satisfaction to inflict the blow which cut him off, 
and increased his appetite to relish the expiring 
struggle. To enjoy the gory spectacle, he always 
dissevered the head from the palpitating body. 
His most pleasing occupation was to whet his 
gleaming knife. His gloomy soul was sated only 
by a copious flow of blood. Simply to destroy 
life was not sufficient : and he experienced a sav- 
age delight in gloating over the writhing agony 
from which most men instinctively turn away their 
eyes. He would retain the ghastly head where it 
would be constantly before him ; and when, 
through the influence of the climate, it rapidly 
changed, and he could no longer feast his gaze 
upon the decaying countenance, it was his habit 
to place it high in the air in the hollow » trunk 
of a cotton-tree, where the vultures could speedi- 
ly strip it of the putrefying flesh. After this 
the whitened skull was cast down the yawning 



The Assassin. 1 2 1 

chasm into which the mangled carcass had already 
been thrown. 

Hutchinson's slaves were made participators of 
his sanguinary deeds. These were Africans, pro- 
cured fresh from the slave-ships, and speaking 
only their own language. Familiarized with 
cruelty and blood in their own land, and sunk in 
heathen ignorance, they perceived nothing crim- 
inal or unusual in these atrocious acts, and, with 
the submission with which slaves bow to the will 
of their owner, they did whatever he commanded, 
and scrupled not to take the part assigned to them 
by their master in helping to destroy the living or 
dispose of the dead. The risk from them was 
slight, for as they were never suffered to be 
away from the farm, and knew no language but 
that brought from their native wilds across the 
sea, they were not able, even if they felt an inclina- 
tion to do so, to make any revelation concerning 
the character and doings of -their guilty owner. 
But, apart from this, fear would suffice to seal 
their lips, as their own lives lay at his mercy ; 
and if it were his pleasure to cut them in frag- 
ments with the terrible cartwhip in that secluded 
vale, he could do so with perfect impunity. Thus 
it was that for many years he carried on the prac- 
tice of assassination without being discovered or 
exciting any suspicion. Occasionally travelers in 
company would traverse the gloomy valley and 
call at the tower, and these, after being hospitably 
entertained, passed on in safety, their plurality 
being their protection. But no solitary traveler 



122 Romance Without Fiction. 

who attempted to thread his way through the 
lonely mountain gorge, however poor or wretched 
he might be, was suffered to escape alive from the 
confines of Hutchinson's farm. The tower was so 
situated as completely to command the narrow 
road, and the murderer or one of his slaves kept 
constant watch for any passer by who, alone, and 
not suspecting danger, might become their prey. 
The needy wanderer would sometimes call at the 
lonely turret, the first sign of a human habitation 
which for many miles had greeted his eye, and 
solicit food and temporary shelter. And he would 
obtain it without grudging, but it would be the last 
he would ever partake of. The more wealthy trav- 
eler would halt and seek hospitality at the tower, 
which would be cheerfully afforded, without any 
idea of remuneration, and he would leave, grateful 
for the rough but apparently kind attentions he 
had received, only, however, to meet the cruel 
fate to which he had been silently doomed. by the 
treacherous master of that habitation while sitting 
at his board in seeming friendly intercourse. 
From a loop-hole of the tower in one direction, or 
through a thick-set hedge of logwood prepared for 
the purpose on the other, and both of which per- 
fectly commanded the narrow path, the hapless 
victim would be shot down with unerring aim by 
the assassin or his slave assistants. Sometimes at 
the cattle-fold hard by the road the master would 
detain in conversation a wayfarer who might be 
passing on without stopping at the tower, while his 
slave from behind the fence could leisurely take 



The Assassin. 123 

aim at the unsuspecting victim, and stretch him 
low in death. Thus it was that for some years 
lonely travelers across the mountain range of Ja- 
maica continued mysteriously to disappear. Not 
only days but weeks generally elapsed before they 
were missed by their friends. And then all in- 
quiry was vain ; all traces of them had vanished 
from the face of the earth. 

But the most successful and protracted career 
of crime meets with a check at last. Some over- 
sight, some seeming accident, occurs to mar the 
well-planned scheme, and furnish a clue to the 
cleverly concealed villainy, and the evil doer finds 
in the end how true are the words of inspired wis- 
dom, "Be sure your sin will find you out." So it 
was with the assassin Hutchinson. He was suf- 
fered to run a long course of evil unchecked; but 
in the operations of that Providence which is all- 
pervading and all-controlling, the mystery of ini- 
quity was at length unraveled, and the blood- 
stained wretch stood revealed in all his terrible 
enormity of crime. A failure in his usual caution, 
an oversight committed in his eagerness to accom- 
plish a long-meditated act of villainy, unmasked the 
murderer, and brought his guilty career to an end. 
In the same vale, but at a considerable distance, 
was a cattle-farm similar to his own, the manager 
of which — a person named Callendar — had for a 
considerable time been marked out for assassina- 
tion by Hutchinson whenever the favorable op- 
portunity should occur. By some offense, perhaps 
altogether unintentional, he had awakened against 



124 Romance Without Fiction. 

himself the inextinguishable hatred of his danger- 
ous neighbor, who, however, concealed both his 
feelings and intentions deep within his own breast. 
A few of Hutchinson's cattle had strayed, and 
found their way to the property under Callendar's 
care, where they had committed some depreda- 
tions. With neighborly kindness the manager 
drove them back to their own plantation, and de- 
livered them over to the care of their owner, re- 
questing that they might not be suffered so to 
trespass again. Such an occasion was not favora- 
ble to the purposes of the murderer, accompanied, 
as Callendar was, by slave-drovers or cattle-men 
belonging to the estate under his care. The vis- 
itor was hospitably entertained, and dismissed with 
assurances which satisfied him, gratified with the 
apparent cordiality that had marked the conduct 
of his host. The visit was returned, and the as- 
sassin spent a day in intercourse with his intended 
victim, which seemed to partake of the utmost 
friendliness. Thus a freedom of acquaintance 
was promoted that promised to give the desired 
opportunity for the indulgence of the treacherous 
cruelty lying hidden beneath all this show of 
friendship. After two or three visits had been 
interchanged, one day, as the unsuspecting Cal- 
lendar was going to or returning from, the tower, 
a rifle bullet from behind the fatal hedge, fired by 
the hand of Hutchinson, stretched him upon the 
earth, and the tragedy was completed in the usual 
way, except that in this case, as it might be haz- 
ardous to retain in his possession such a dangerous 



The Assassin, 125 

clew to the unfolding of the mystery certain to 
attach to Callendar's sudden disappearance, the 
bleeding body, with the head still attached, was 
committed to the unfathomable charnel-house that 
had engulfed so many, and which the murderer 
vainly imagined would never give up its dead. 

There happened to be in the tower, confined to 
bed by sickness, an unsuspecting traveler, who 
had stopped there on his journey, and who, wea- 
ried and worn out by the illness that had overtaken 
him on the road, had solicited the shelter and 
hospitality of the lone house until he should be 
recovered sufficiently to pursue his journey. This 
had been freely accorded, and the patient was 
tended with such rude care as the slave denizens 
of the farm, under the direction of their master, 
were able to afford, with the intention on the part 
of the treacherous host that in due time, when the 
unsuspicious guest should take his departure in 
all confidence and security, and warmed with 
gratitude for the generous treatment he had re- 
ceived, he might gloat over the luxury of laying 
him low with his fatal rifle, and send him to join 
the numerous victims already consigned to the deep, 
yawning abyss close at hand. Having in some de- 
gree recovered from the fever which for many days 
had prostrated all his energies, and gladly risen from 
his couch, through the small opening that admitted 
light and air into a room he had accidentally en- 
tered, he became, to his inexpressible horror, an 
unseen witness of the assassination of the unfor- 
tunate Callendar. He had heard of the dark 



126 Romance Without Fiction. 

mystery which enshrouded the fate of numerous 
travelers who had ventured to cross the island by 
that lonely road, and here light was suddenly 
thrown upon it. He could now understand the 
reason of their inexplicable disappearance. 
Shocked beyond measure with what he had seen, 
he placed a powerful restraint upon his feelings 
and let no word or sign escape him concerning the 
tragedy wrought before his eyes, but quietly waited 
his opportunity. . As soon as his recovered strength 
permitted, when the owner of the tower was ab- 
sent, possessing himself of a horse, and eluding all 
observation, he effected his escape from the fate 
which he felt sure awaited him, especially if his 
possession of the terrible secret should for a mo- 
ment be suspected. 

Unseen and untraced, he made his way to the 
nearest habitation he could find, and the alarm 
was given. He made known the murder of Cal- 
lendaV as he had witnessed it from the turret, 
and the bearing away of the mangled body in the 
direction of the deep sink-hole which received the 
drainings of the surrounding hills. Soon the 
whole country was up in wild excitement ; for 
suspicion of the truth was now awakened, and the 
mysterious disappearances which for years had 
kept up a painful interest on both sides of the 
island were accounted for. The murderer, on re- 
turning home in the evening, discovered the es- 
cape of his guest, whose destruction he had been 
brooding over for many days with savage satisfac- 
tion ; and, fearing that the assassination of Callen- 



The Assassin, 127 

dar was known, he fled. Making his way with all 
possible speed across the mountains and through 
the tangled forest, avoiding human habitations and 
frequented roads, he arrived at the south coast. 
On reaching Old Harbor, one of the south-side 
ports, he took unceremonious possession of an 
open boat and put to sea, and he succeeded in 
getting on board a ship which was passing the 
island under sail, congratulating himself on having, 
as he supposed, thrown off and baffled all his pur- 
suers. But the whole country was up and in 
pursuit; for intelligence of the discovery which 
had been made spread with unexampled rapidity, 
aggravated rather than lessened by the voice of 
rumor, and all were anxious that the assassin 
should be secured and brought to justice. 

Some hours after the alarm had been given con- 
cerning the murder of Callendar a strong party 
repaired to Edinburgh Castle to seize the criminal. 
Then it was discovered that he had taken alarm, 
and fled ; but his course was traced, and it was 
soon ascertained that he had boarded a passing 
vessel. Admiral Sir George Rodney, the hero of 
that Western Archipelago, happened to be lying 
at Port Royal with the fleet under his command ; 
and as soon as the intelligence was conveyed to 
him of what had occurred in St. Ann's, and the 
escape of the assassin, the admiral put to sea in 
his own ship, and speedily overhauled the mer- 
chant vessel in which the fugitive, in fancied se- 
curity, was flying to some distant shore. Inter- 
cepted in his flight, Hutchinson threw himself 



128 Romance Without Fiction. 

into the waves, seeking there the death which he 
now saw to be inevitable. From this, however, he 
was rescued by the admiral's boats, and reserved 
for a more ignominious fate. 

After the flight and apprehension of the murderer 
search was made, and then his enormous villainy 
was brought to light. No less than forty-two 
watches were found in his chests, all of which had 
been plundered from the mangled bodies of the yet 
larger number of those whom he had slaughtered ; 
and the fact stood clearly revealed that the mul- 
titude of persons who, through successive years, 
had disappeared from life in passing across the 
country had all found a tragical end in that 
mountain gorge, and had been swallowed up in 
the depth of abyss ever yawning for fresh victims 
near the murderer's turret. Information was ob- 
tained from the slaves, by means of an interpreter, 
as to the method by which the murdered remains 
were disposed of; and an attempt was made to 
search the dark, fearful-looking pit, by letting down 
a bundle of lighted straw. Far down, at the depth 
of many feet, suspended on the point of a project- 
ing rock, was discovered the mangled, putrefying 
body of the murdered Callendar; but the depths 
below had more effectually received and disposed 
of all the other victims. 

In due time Hutchinson was brought to trial for 
the murder of Callendar at St. Jago de la Vega. 
After a display of hardihood and bravado seldom 
witnessed in a court of justice, the ruffian was 
convicted and speedily suffered the last penalty 



The Assassin, 129 

of the law upon the gallows. u The enormity 
of his crimes," says the historian of the time, 
" might be exceeded by his hardened insolence 
before his judges ; but his reckless gaze upon the 
instrument which was to convey him before the 
tribunal of his Maker finds no parallel in the his- 
tory of crime or punishment ; nor can the annals 
of human depravity equal the fact that at the foot 
of the scaffold he left a hundred pounds in gold 
to erect a monument, and to inscribe the marble 
with a record of his death." The document is 
probably still in existence at Spanish Town, 
written by the hand and bearing the signature of 
the notorious criminal, in which he expressed this 
extraordinary wish, only a few moments before 
his wretched, blood-stained soul passed into the 
presence of its Creator and Judge. The record 
he required to be placed on the tablet in these 
words : " Lewis Hutchinson, hanged in Spanish 
Town, Jamaica, on the sixteenth morning of 
March, in the year of his Lord one thousand 
seven hundred and seventy-three. Aged forty 
years. 

" * Their sentence, pride, and malice I defy, 
Despise their power, and like a Roman die/ " 



130 Romance Without Fiction. 



VI. 

The Hell-Fire Club. 

These are they 
That strove to pull Jehovah from his throne ; 
And in the place of heaven's eternal King 
Set up the phantom Chance.-v Glynn. 

JHE foregoing tale of Hutchinson the assassin 
is properly followed by another, which serves 
yet more impressively to illustrate the retrib- 
utive providence of God in the affairs of men. 
About a week after my visit to Hutchinson's Hole 
I had called at the house of a friend, when a gen- 
tleman residing in the neighborhood came in. He 
was a planter, having the management of several 
large properties, and possessing a higher degree of 
mental culture than had fallen to the lot of many, 
in the class he belonged to. He had become a 
frequent attendant upon the services at the mis- 
sion sanctuary, about a mile from the plantation 
where his residence was beautifully situated in one 
dTthe finest localities of the island ; and the truth 
had so far wrought upon his mind and heart as to 
induce him to dissever himself from one of the 
vicious habits fostered into general prevalence 
under the corrupting influences with which such a 
system as slavery always pervades the country 
wherein it is unhappily established. After the or- 



The Hell-Fire Club. 131 

dinary salutations had passed, and we had resumed 
our seats he drew a newspaper from his pocket, 
and directed my attention to a brief obituary 
notice contained in it. On looking over it I 
found that it was the announcement of the death 
of one who was unknown to me. He was 
described as a planter of middle age, who had fin- 
ished his earthly course in a distant part of the 
island. 

" Your discourse on Sunday morning interested 
me very much," said my visitor, when I had read 
the notice to which he had directed my attention, 
" and I was greatly impressed by your remarks 
concerning a retributive providence and the illus- 
trations you gave. I was well acquainted with 
many of the men to whom you referred, who are 
now no more ; and with some of them I was inti- 
mate for years." 

" My mind was prepossessed very much with 
the subject," I replied, "from having, with a 
friend, last week, visited Edinburgh Castle, cele- 
brated as the scene of the Hutchinson tragedies 
many years ago ; and I was so impressed with the 
facts involved in that case, especially with the 
manner in which the wickedness of the man was 
brought to light, that I was induced to take the 
warning of Moses to the two tribes as my subject 
for the pulpit on Sabbath morning. God has 
wrought very marvelously during the few years 
past in breaking up and scattering that unlawful 
association, the Colonial Church Union ; and the 
manner in which his hand has been laid upon its 

9 



132 Romance Without Fiction, 

founders and leaders, the rector and his friend, 
Mr. H., is to my mind most impressive and ad- 
monitory. I think it fitting and proper that we 
should, in these things as in others, consider the 
works of the Lord, and regard the operations of 
his hand." It was God's complaint concerning 
his ancient people, u When my hand is lifted up, 
they will not see it- But they shall see." 

"I think with you," he said, "that we ought 
to recognize Divine Providence in those events 
which have occurred. Indeed, it is scarcely pos- 
sible for any thoughtful person to do otherwise, 
they have been so remarkable. Even Mr. H. B., 
who took a leading part himself in the proceedings 
of the Union, acknowledged, before the accident 
occurred which caused his own death, when he 
saw first one and then another of his friends so 
suddenly cut off from life, ' The hand of God is 
in these things.' And that is a very remarkable 
confession in the rector's printed address to his 
parishioners, that * his life had been spent in a 
vain effort to push God out of the world he had 
made.' I observed that you cjid not mention any 
names ; but I understood nearly all the cases to 
which you referred, and knew the parties well. I 
have never known the doctrine of retribution so 
fearfully illustrated anywhere as it has been in this 
colony during the last few years ; and I was glad 
you took up the subject as you did, and discussed 
it in a manner that could not be otherwise than 
instructive and admonitory to your hearers. My 
thoughts have dwelt largely on the subject ever 



The Hell-Fire Club, 133 

since ; and I was startled when I received this 
newspaper by the post to-day, and read the notice 
to which I have called your attention." 

" I am not aware," I remarked, " that I had any 
acquaintance with the person. The name is 
strange to me. Is there any thing remarkable as- 
sociated with his history ? " 

" Only this," he said, " that he was the sole sur- 
vivor of a party or club which existed some years 
ago, and whose history was very forcibly recalled 
to my mind as you were speaking about providen- 
tial retribution. I knew some of the persons con- 
cerned in it personally, and have often thought 
that the Lord dealt with them in a very remarka- 
ble way. They were all members of what was 
called the * Hell-Fire Club,' of which you have 
probably heard, though it is now extinct, and has 
been so for some years." 

"I have heard it spoken of," I replied, "but 
I never met with any one who could give me 
particular information concerning the origin and 
design of an association bearing such a signifi- 
cant designation. Perhaps yoir may be able to 
do so." 

" I am not prepared," said he, " to gratify your 
curiosity to any considerable extent, though I lived 
for several years in the neighborhood where it ex- 
isted. It was a' club established for profane and 
infidel .purposes by some parties at Morant Bay; 
and I believe, though I cannot state positively, 
that it originated about the beginning of this cen- 
tury, or soon after, when opposition to the mission- 



134 Romance Without Fiction. 

aries was fiercely raging. Who were the founders 
of the club I never heard. I suppose they had 
rules by which the association was to be governed ; 
but, if so, they kept them very much to themselves. 
From all I ever learned about it, I believe it was 
got up to oppose the spread of religion by the 
missionaries, and to propagate and encourage 
blasphemy and infidelity. " 

" How long did it continue to exist ? " I in- 
quired. 

" Between twenty and thirty years," he replied, 
" and then it came to an end. The last I heard 
of it was an occurrence associated with the name 
of the person whose death is reported in the news- 
paper I have shown to you as having taken place 
a few days ago at Morant Bay. It was there the 
club was first established, and the incidents with 
which he was identified were of such a character 
as to make a profound impression upon all who 
became acquainted with them. The facts were 
partly related to me by himself many years ago, 
and they were brought very vividly to my recol- 
lection while I listened to you on Sunday last. I 
thought it a strange coincidence that to-day, on 
receiving my newspaper from the post-office, the 
first thing my eye lighted on was the announce- 
ment of that man's death who had been for several 
days so much in my thoughts, and concerning 
whom I felt some anxiety to ascertain whether he 
was yet living, or had followed his former asso- 
ciates to the grave." 

" I should feel obliged," I remarked to my 



The Hell-Fire Club. 135 

visitor, " if you have no objection, if you will re- 
late to me the incidents to which you allude. I 
have long desired to possess myself of such par- 
ticulars as can now be ascertained relative to 
that club, whose very name seems to express 
something very much like a daring defiance of 
God." 

" I shall be happy," he responded, " to give you 
the information as I received it, which I believe 
to be substantially correct, coming as it did to me 
chiefly from a person so deeply interested. The 
members of the club were in the habit of meeting 
at different places, both in town and country, as 
agreed upon among themselves. At one of the 
last meetings — I believe the very last — there were 
present ten members, mostly planters in charge 
of the surrounding plantations ; and it took place 
on the estate of which the person whose death is 
mentioned in this newspaper was the overseer. I 
am not prepared to say whether it«was one of the 
regular meetings of the club, or an accidental 
gathering of some who were connected with it for 
one of those seasons of debauch and drunkenness 
to which the planters of those days regularly gave 
themselves up on Sundays in most parts of the 
country. From the number assembled I should 
think it was the former. After some hours spent 
in deep potations and obscene and riotous orgies, 
more befitting fiends than intelligent and account- 
able human beings, until all unhallowed passions 
became rampant, the persons who had been 
chosen to preside over the drunken revel called 



136 Romance Without Fiction. 

upon his companions to fill up their glasses, and 
drink a toast which he would propose for them. 
This done, he proposed the toast — so profane, so 
blasphemous, and expressing such outrageous de- 
fiance of God, that I shrink from putting it down. 
To give point to the words of blasphemy and ex- 
press defiance of the Almighty more emphatic 
than could be enunciated in mere language, it was 
suggested that each of them should hold a loaded 
pistol in his hand and fire it off at the moment of 
drinking the toast. Mad and reckless as they were 
with excess, several of the debauchees were startled 
and stood aghast at the daring wickedness of the 
proposal. But it was only for a few brief 
moments. Then all were agreed except one, and 
he the overseer of the plantation on which they 
were assembled. Not quite so hardened in wick- 
edness as most of his associates, he refused to be 
a party to the daring profanity, and for a time 
held out against all the persuasion and upbraidings 
with which he was assailed. It was only when the 
reckless men around him threatened violence, and 
he stood in fear of his life, that he yielded a 
trembling consent and drank the toast. Soon 
after they separated. And that was the last meet- 
ing of the Hell-fire Club ; for within a few weeks 
most of the company of blasphemers were swept 
away by some violent death. And before the end 
of three months every one was gone to the grave, 
except the person whose death is now recorded in 
the newspapers, and who was the one who refused 
for a while to join in the blasphemers' toast. The 



The Hell-Fire Club. 137 

last of the nine was the man who acted as presi- 
dent on the occasion, and the author and proposer 
of the profane toast. He died under peculiar 
circumstances, and in great agony, which occa- 
sioned much remark at the time." 

I here interrupted the narrator to inquire if he 
had been personally acquainted with any of the 
individuals he had referred to. 

" I knew the person, " he said, " whose death 
has just taken place, and with two or three of the 
others I was slightly acquainted ; but I was only 
a young man when these circumstances transpired, 
and I heard them much talked of at the time they 
took place. What occurred at the drinking party, 
together with the toast and the firing of the pis- 
tols, were all related to me by the individual whose 
death is mentioned here. In consequence of three 
of the party meeting with sudden death during the 
very next week after they had so daringly defied 
the Almighty a deep impression was made upon 
his mind, and he was induced to speak of what 
had occurred, otherwise the whole might have 
passed off as other drunken revels had done, and 
no more been said or thought about it. He be- 
came a different man after that, and went to no 
more Sunday drinking parties." 

I expressed a desire to be informed if the three 
persons alluded to all met their death at the same 
time. 

" No," he said. " One of them was an overseer 
on a neighboring plantation, and was crushed by 
a piece of timber falling upon him. This took 



138 Romance Without Fiction. 

place the day following the guilty revel. He was 
giving directions to some workmen who were rais- 
ing the roof of a new building on the estate when 
a beam or rafter fell and struck him, inflicting such 
injuries that he survived only a few minutes. The 
person who has recently died happened to be pres- 
ent when the accident occurred. And it is not 
surprising that such an event following imme- 
diately upon the drunken carouse of the preced- 
ing day, which was characterized by such despe- 
rate wickedness, should make a serious impression 
upon his mind, especially when, a day or two later, 
two more of the party were also cut off. They 
were returning home on horseback from a visit to 
one of the plantations, having drank freely with 
the overseer. But during the time they were oc- 
cupied in the convivialities that generally attended 
such visits, heavy rains in the mountains had 
brought down a flood in the river which they had 
to cross on their return home, and, as it was dark, 
they were not in a condition to observe how much 
the waters were swollen. They attempted to ford 
the stream, but were washed from their horses, 
and borne away to the sea by the fierce torrent. 
Their bodies, much bruised and mangled by 
being dashed against the massive boulders in 
the river-course, were found cast ashore on the 
following day in a condition scarcely to be iden- 
tified." 

u Do you know/' I inquired, " what became 
of the others ? for I think you said they all 
came to the grave within a short time after the 



The Hell-Fire Club. 139 

meeting at which the blasphemous toast was pro- 
posed." 

" It is some years now," he said, " since I con- 
versed with any one upon the subject, and the 
particulars are not so distinct in my mind as they 
were. In the lapse of years, names, dates, and 
places are apt to get confounded when the mem- 
ory alone is relied upon ; but the main facts were 
of such a character as not easily to be forgotten, 
though I cannot undertake to relate them in the 
exact order in which they occurred. Very shortly 
after the two were drowned in fording the river— 
I think it was the following week — a Mr. M'P., 
who was one of the drinking party, also in the 
planting line, was riding a young horse not very 
well broken to the bit and saddle, when the ani- 
mal took fright at something that caught his at- 
tention and started off at full speed. The- road 
being rough and rocky, the horse fell, throwing 
his rider with great violence, and smashing his 
head against some stones on the side of the way. 
He was killed on the spot. A Mr. G. was about 
the same time killed by negroes in revenge for in- 
juries he had inflicted upon them. At least it was 
supposed that some of the slaves on the estate of 
which he was overseer were the murderers, though 
the real culprits could never be discovered. He 
was very severe and cruel in his management of 
the property intrusted to his care, inflicting fre- 
quent and heavy punishments ; and he wrought 
the people very hard, so that generally more ne- 
groes died off where he was overseer than on any 



140 Romance Without Fiction. 

of the plantations around. He was one of the old 
school planters, who lived in the time of the slave- 
trade, and thought it more profitable to get all the 
work he could out of the Africans, and supply the 
waste by purchasing others from the slave-ships, 
than to treat them more kindly, and allow the 
slave population on the estate to increase in the 
natural way. After the slave-trade was abolished 
he continued the same cruel system of manage- 
ment, and the consequence was that, although he 
made large crops, yet the estates suffered so much 
in his hands by the loss of slaves, who could not 
now be replaced as before, that he had very often 
to change his situation-. He had a fierce set of 
negroes to deal with on the estate he was then 
managing, many of them being of the Coromantee 
race, and few persons were surprised, though many 
were shocked, when it became known that he had 
been waylaid by a party of negroes on his return 
home late at night and chopped to pieces. His 
negro boy was with him, riding a little distance 
behind, when the assassins, all entirely naked, set 
upon the unfortunate man in the dark. The boy 
fled upon his mule, no attempt being made to in- 
tercept him, and left his master to his fate. And 
a dreadful fate it was, for he was found by those 
who went in search of him hewed in fragments 
with cutlasses, and those who did it kept their 
own counsel so well that they were never discov- 
ered. Another of those who joined in the toast 
was supposed to have been murdered. He was 
poisoned, and died in great agony. He was a Mr. 



The Hell-Fire Club. 141 

.S., in mercantile life, carrying on business as a 
general storekeeper. He had cast aside a quad- 
roon woman who had been his housekeeper for 
years, and was the mother of several of his chil- 
dren, and had put another woman in her place. 
A proceeding of this kind has cost many a man 
his life in this country. Many of the old Africans 
possessed a knowledge of poisonous plants grow- 
ing within the tropics with which scientific men 
were not acquainted, a knowledge often turned to 
dangerous account in Obeah practices, and some- 
times resorted to for purposes of revenge. It is 
very probable that the cast-off mistress found 
some means of reaching her quondam protector 
with one of these powerful vegetable poisons, 
but so skillfully and secretly, that no traces could 
be discovered of the agency through which the 
deed was accomplished. Another of the party, 
a Mr. L., shot himself. Such, at least, was the 
conclusion arrived at concerning his case, for he 
was found shot through the head, the ball having 
passed upward through his mouth, scattering the 
brains all around. He also was in business as a 
general dealer, and his affairs were found to be 
much involved, and mixed up with many fraudu- 
lent transactions. He had lived a wild, profligate 
life, far beyond his means, and having got hope- 
lessly involved in debt with all who would trust him, 
he settled with all his creditors at once by means 
of a pistol-ball. The same day that L. shot him- 
self, a Mr. T., an intimate friend of his, was killed 
by the bursting of a gun. Both belonged to the 



142 Romance Without Fiction. 

infidel club, and both were present when the toast 
was proposed, entering very readily into the pro- 
posal, while some were disposed to hang back. 
T. had gone out with some friends to shoot wild 
pigeons, and the first time he attempted to fire, 
the weapon he carried burst into fragments, one 
of which was driven through the face into his 
head, inflicting a wound which proved mortal in a 
few hours. Then there was a Mr. B., overseer of 
an estate, who met his death in going home from 
the town. He was a hard drinker, and frequently 
went home intoxicated when he visited the town. 
On this occasion he had indulged more freely than 
usual, and driving home in his gig, he ran the 
wheel of his vehicle upon a bank, by which it was 
overturned, and, falling upon his head, his neck 
was dislocated, and he died upon the spot where 
he fell. The whole of these casualties occurred 
within a very few weeks — not more, I believe, 
than four or five, and only two of that profane 
party were left alive : the man at whose house the 
party had assembled, and who was compelled by 
his drunken companions, under threats of violence 
and death, to go with them in their daring act of 
profanity, and the person who occupied the chair 
on the occasion and suggested the drinking of 
the toast. What effect was produced upon the 
mind of the latter by the sad fate which overtook 
his companions in such rapid succession I cannot 
tell. Many persons who had become acquainted 
with the facts relating to that last meeting of the 
Hell-Fire Club, and the blasphemous orgies that 



The Hell-Fire Club. 143 

attended it, looked on with awe, for they regarded 
these casualties which came upon the company of 
blasphemers as the judgments of Almighty God. 
And this feeling was terribly strengthened when, a 
few weeks later, they saw the leader in the act by 
which God was so daringly and wickedly defied, 
also swept away from the midst of the living by a 
very horrible death." 

My informant then proceeded to relate the par- 
ticulars connected with the death of this individ- 
ual, which were of such a character as not to ad- 
mit of their being minutely stated here. While 
on a journey he received injury from the incau- 
tious use of a poisonous plant, that produced in- 
flammation, gangrene, mortification, and death. 
The death scene of this man was very fearful. 
To the excruciating physical torture he had to 
endure were added the terror and anguish of de- 
spair. When his energies were prostrated by the 
agonizing pain which had seized upon him, and 
death stared him in the face ; when the world, for 
which alone he had lived, was fading away, and 
the dread realities of the eternal world were all 
around him, then how eagerly would he have 
turned to the Blessed One whom he had in wan- 
ton wickedness blasphemed and defied ! But he 
could not pray. He dared not hope that God 
would hear him now, and he howled and raved 
and blasphemed God in his delirium until nature 
was exhausted and life failed, and the wretched 
soul of the blasphemer passed beyond the vail to 
appear before its Maker. 



144 Romance Without Fiction. 

" I never heard," my informant said, in reply to 
a question of mine upon the subject, "that any 
other meeting of the infidel club was held after- 
ward. I believe some who once belonged to it 
still survive, but these judgments of the Almighty 
broke up the unholy association, and it became 
extinct. Those who had formed part of the skep- 
tic league were too much horrified to have any 
thing more to do with a fraternity against which 
the hand of the Lord had been so manifestly lifted 
up. Not a few who had made a boast of infidelity 
were silenced, if not cured of their skepticism. 
This was the case with the individual who is so 
recently deceased. He was greatly alarmed by 
the fate of his associates in wickedness, and I be- 
lieve he repented. If ever a man prayed earnestly 
for pardon I believe he did, and he became a 
changed man/' 

"I think," I replied, "that the fact of his life 
having been lengthened out for so many years 
after his associates were taken away may be justly 
regarded as an indication that he did not pray in 
vain. When David, through Nathan's rebuke, 
was turned to God again, and made the acknowl- 
edgment, ' I have sinned/ the prophet was com- 
missioned to say, ' The Lord also hath put away 
thy sin/ His conscience appears to have been 
less hardened than theirs, as he was only induced 
to join them in their excess of wickedness under 
pressure, and it was in consequence of his being 
wrought upon by the sudden death of some of his 
associates that the facts were brought to light. 



The Hell-Fire Club. 145 

Otherwise we should never have known the full 
extent of the depravity and blasphemy which char- 
acterized that club of infidel opposers of the truth, 
or the judgments that swept them from the earth. 
If he had not made known what took place at that 
last meeting, when God was so profanely set at 
naught, the destruction that came so rapidly upon 
the offenders would have been looked upon merely 
as the ordinary casualties of colonial life. My 
mind has been deeply impressed with the occur- 
rences of the last few years in the breaking up of 
the Colonial Church Union, which was a conspir- 
acy against God and his truth, and the judgments 
that fell upon so many of the chapel destroyers, 
most of whom have come to a violent and untime- 
ly end. I had heard of this ' Hell-Fire Club,' and 
sometimes have seen a reference made to it by 
newspaper correspondents, but I never could suc- 
ceed in gaining any knowledge of its history until 
now. Nor was I aware that it originated in the 
persecutions to which missionaries were subjected 
at Morant Bay many years ago. When I was at 
Morant Bay, a little while since, I visited the dun- 
geon in which the missionaries were imprisoned. 
The whole history is very instructive, and exhibits 
an impressive comment upon the w^ords of the 
Psalmist concerning those who league themselves 
together in opposition to the cause of Christ : 
'Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; thou 
shalt dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel. 
Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from 
the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little.' 



146 Romance Without Fiction 

The first part of the quotation receives illustra- 
tion from the fate which befell the clique of blas- 
phemers; the latter from the sparing mercy exer- 
cised toward him who repented and humbled 
himself before God." 

The torrent that swept the valley may be led to turn a mill. 
The wild electric flash, that could have kindled comets, 
May by the ductile wire give ease to an ailing child. 
For outward matter or event fashion not the character within ; 
But each man, yielding or resisting, fashioneth his mind for 
himself. 

Planets govern not the soul, nor guide the destinies of man ; 
But trifles, lighter than straws, are levers in the building up 

of character. 
A man hath the tiller in his hand, and may steer against the 

current, 
Or may glide down idly with the stream, till his vessel founder 

in the whirlpool. 



The Blacksmith's Wedding. 147 



VII. 

The Blacksmith's Wedding. 

There is a Power 
Unseen, that rules the illimitable world, 
That guides its motions, from the brightest star 
To the least dust of this sin -tainted mold ; 
While man, who madly deems himself the lord 
Of all, is naught but weakness and dependence. — THOiiBOK. 

J IMPORTANT issues sometimes proceed from 
[ very insignificant circumstances, and grand 
results from unpromising beginnings. It was 
in those days when slavery spread its gloomy 
shadow over the land that a missionary, residing 
near the western extremity of Jamaica, was cross- 
ing the island from a southern town to the capital 
of the country situated on the northern shore. 
He was on horseback, and not very superbly 
mounted for the long and fatiguing ride which he 
had undertaken. The early part of his journey 
lay for some miles across a wide-stretching savan- 
na, where the roads are constructed with logs of 
lignuni-vitce and logwood, laid across, and covered 
over with mud thrown up from either side. This, 
when hardened and baked in the burning rays of 
the tropical sun, makes, in the dry weather, a tol- 
erably good pathway for horses and vehicles ; but 
in the long rainy seasons it becomes an extended 

quagmire impassable to vehicles of any descrip- 
10 



148 Romance Without Fiction. 

tion, and through which the traveler on horseback 
has to pick his way with the utmost care to avoid 
the danger of breaking the legs of his horse 
through his stepping into some of the deep holes 
with which the road abounds, and which are all 
the more perilous as, being filled with water by the 
daily rains, their depth cannot be very readily 
discerned. 

Threading his way slowly and carefully for more 
than two hours along this difficult road, and often 
sinking nearly to the girths in the treacherous 
ground, from which the poor animal could extri- 
cate itself only by a desperate plunge, the travel- 
er arrived at the foot of the mountains, bespat- 
tered to the shoulders with the mud through 
which for seven weary miles he had been urg- 
ing his toilsome way. Here the road, though 
still rough, became more solid and pleasant to 
travel, tending upward along the rocky mountain 
side ; its windings opening up to view beautiful 
valleys overspread with villages, and abounding 
with the luxuriant vegetation of the tropics. Nu- 
merous cottage gardens lay spread over the vale, 
or occupied the slopes of the hills, all of them 
filled with fruit trees of different kinds ; the cocoa- 
nut, the plantain and the banana, the star-apple 
and all the varieties of the orange, grape fruit, 
lime and shaddock exhibiting their rich and 
tempting burdens, and discovering the inexhaust- 
ible richness' of a land which, but for the vices 
and cruelties of man, might be an earthly paradise. 
Slowly he pursues his way ; f©r he compassionates 



The Blacksmith's Wedding. 149 

~the poor beast whose powers, by no means exu- 
berant, have been largely exhausted in bearing him 
through the heavy roads that cost him so much 
time and trouble to traverse. And he does not 
forget that the path before him, for some miles, is 
a steep ascent, leading over the range of hills and 
mountains which form the great backbone of the 
island. The sun, now high in the firmament, pours 
down a full tide of heat ; and it is with a feeling of 
grateful relief that, after climbing the rugged path 
for several miles, he enters an avenue formed by 
the plume-like branches of the bamboo. These, 
springing up from either side of the road in luxu- 
riant growth, and meeting above at a height of 
twelve or fifteen yards, form an umbrageous arch 
almost impervious to the rays of the sun, deliciously 
cool and grateful, conveying to the mind of the 
wearied, sun-scorched traveler a pleasant sense 
of the meaning of the Scripture metaphor, "the 
shadow of a great rock in a weary land." 

From this delightful shade, which extends over 
several miles, he emerges high up among the hills, 
to feel again the full force of the brilliant tropical 
heat, through which he winds his way* until he has 
accomplished the most fatiguing half of his jour- 
ney. Four hours' toil has pretty well exhausted 
both man and beast, and he feels desirous of 
turning into one of the habitations near the road to 
obtain a little rest and shelter. His path now lies 
through a country divided into large cattle-farms, 
called pens, with their retinue of overseers, book- 
keepers, drivers, and slaves. At any of these, he 



ISO Romance Without Fiction. 

is well aware, he could call and obtain refresh- 
ment both for himself and his horse ; for the hos- 
pitality of the Jamaica planters is proverbial. And 
although the planters almost universally look with 
an unfriendly eye upon missionaries, yet even from 
them would not be withheld, at any of the planta- 
tions, the hospitality which it is the custom freely 
to accord to all travelers who may request it. 
But he prefers to seek the rest he needs at some 
more lowly habitation. He has an indistinct recol- 
lection of an old house situated near the roadside, 
from whence he heard the music of the anvil when 
he passed that way before; and in due time the 
gate-way with its shattered pillars in front of the 
blacksmith's shop gladdens his sight, and holds out 
the promise of at least an hour or two's repose. 

Riding to the foot of the rickety wooden steps 
which lead up, in front of the smithy, to the 
blacksmith's house above, he addresses himself to 
a good-looking colored woman, whose age may 
approach thirty years, and whose complexion in- 
dicates more of European than African blood 
flowing in her veins. He soon ascertains that he 
will be quite welcome to alight and rest himself 
there, and that there will be no difficulty in ob- 
taining a bundle of Guinea-grass for his horse and 
refreshment for himself. Dismounting, he com- 
mits the weary steed to the care of a lad some 
nine or ten years of age, the so;i of his colored 
hostess, who undertakes to rub him down and sup- 
ply him with grass and water; and then the trav- 
eler, after exchanging a word or two of greeting 



The BlacksmitJis Wedding. 151 

* with the blacksmith himself, of whose sooty visage 
he has caught a glimpse in approaching the dwell- 
ing, ascends the stairs. Through a small piazza, 
or gallery, he enters the house, receiving a polite 
welcome from the woman, and a broad, earnest 
stare from two or three little urchins, who cling to 
their mother, each clad in a long loose single gar- 
ment, calculated rather to afford cool comfort in a 
tropical climate than, to meet the requirements of 
more refined society. 

The lower part of the building, which is the 
blacksmith's workshop, is a strong stone erection ; 
but the upper story is of wood, upon which time is 
doing its work, and reducing it rapidly to a state 
of considerable dilapidation. Having deposited 
himself on a broad wooden settle, which does duty 
as a sofa, his valise serving the purpose of a pillow, 
the w r earied traveler* reclines there very comfort- 
ably ; while his good-humored hostess, with bust- 
ling, cheerful activity, addresses herself to the task 
of getting breakfast for the stranger. A fowl, 
caught by one of the youngsters, and hastily de- 
capitated, plucked, and dismembered, is in a 
short time hissing and sputtering in the frying-pan. 
And, in due time, with a good supply of fresh 
eggs and coffee, and floury yams and cocoas, (the 
tanniers of some of the West India colonies*) a 
breakfast is served up sufficient to satisfy the keen 
hunger of the unexpected guest ; the nice clean 
table-cloth, and the well-polished, though very 
common, plates, serving to give zest to the wel- 
come meal 



152 Romance Without Fiction. 

While occupied in discussing and enjoying the 
palatable viands, his smiling hostess, who has rec- 
ognized in him one of the missionary preachers 
she has two or three times, with others from the 
surrounding neighborhood, traveled half a dozen 
leagues to hear, stands by to render whatever serv- 
ice her guest may require, and he enters into con- 
versation with her. From her he learns that 
among the slaves belonging to the pens and 
plantations all around there are many who are in 
the habit of going to the Bay, some eighteen miles 
distant, whenever they can get an opportunity of 
doing so, to attend the missionary services and 
hear the word of life. It is but seldom they can 
undertake the journey, owing to the distance and 
the little time that is allowed them to labor for 
themselves — only one Sabbath in a fortnight. But, 
above all, they are hindered by the persecuting 
violence of the planters, who are sternly opposed 
to the missionary teaching of the slaves, and freely 
use the cat and the cart-whip to curb and keep 
down the religious tendencies of the poor negro 
people under their care. 

It is not difficult to discover from the woman's 
tones and manner that a lively interest in the suf- 
ferings of the religious slaves, and in the teaching 
of the missionaries, has been awakened in her 
own breast. 

Turning the conversation upon her own relig- 
ious condition and prospects, he learns that she 
has never lived within sound of a religious teach- 
er's voice ; never heard of Christ until she went tq 



The Blacksmith's Wedding. 153 

hear the missionaries within the last two or three 
years ; and that, ever since, she has thought and 
felt much about God and her soul. No one ever 
taught her to pray ; but she has sometimes tried to 
call upon God just as she has heard some of the 
praying slaves when, on two or three occasions, 
she attended their nocturnal meetings. Her 
mother lived with the owner of the estate close at 
^hand, who made her free that her children might 
also be free ; and he built for the mother the house 
whose roof now covered them. When her mother 
died she, the only child, inherited a life-interest 
in the dwelling and the inclosed piece of land 
which surrounded it. The present possessor of 
the estate had endeavored to deprive her of her 
little possession, but in vain, as her life-interest in 
the property was clearly secured. At her death 
it would revert to the estate. 

In the course of this conversation, which con- 
tinued long after the breakfast was over, the mis- 
sionary discovered that no religious or legal cere- 
mony had sanctioned her union with the black- 
smith ; and that it was only since she had heard 
of the marriages performed by the missionaries 
among the slaves on the plantations around that 
she had felt any misgivings about her own union 
with the father of her children and the propriety 
of her present mode of life. Further discourse on 
this subject threw light upon the woman's mind, 
and showed her that something w T as wanting to 
render the union valid and complete ; and she at 
once expressed her wish to be married, if it could be 



154 Romance Without Fiction. 

done, as she desired above all things to lead a holy- 
life and go to heaven. Assured that there was 
nothing to prevent the marriage taking place, she 
then inquired how and when it could be done.' 
The missionary, who was aware that no law relat- 
ing to marriage had ever been placed on the stat- 
ute book of the colony, where unbounded licen- 
tiousness was the rule, and marriage a very occa- 
sional occurrence, and that therefore no legal re- 
strictions stood in the way, told her that she and 
the blacksmith might be married whenever they 
chose, and there was no reason why the matrimo- 
nial bond should not be entered into before he 
took his departure if both the parties were 
agreed. 

No time better than the present, the .woman 
thought, and she promptly disappeared to consult 
the gentleman in the smithy. The ringing sound 
of the anvil suddenly ceases, and up through the 
single boards which form at once the floor above 
and the ceiling beneath, is heard the female voice 
setting forth, in eloquent strains, the evils of a 
course of life which God hath not blessed, and urg- 
ing the propriety of doing away the reproach by an 
immediate marriage, which "the parson " up stairs 
is ready to perform. The blacksmith, a quiet, taci- 
turn, industrious artisan, is of a similar complex- 
ion to that of the lady, and, like her, free from 
the trammels of slavery. He sees no objection 
that can be urged to the proposal of an immedi- 
ate marriage, and quickly yields himself up to do 
whatever may be required of him in the matter, 



The Blacksmith } s Wedding, 155 

under the direction of his more active and al le 
partner. 

He is instructed to leave his work and submit 
himself to a cleansing process, which is by no 
means superfluous, and get into a clean suit of 
clothes, while she attends to such other arrange- 
ments as may be requisite. 

After a short consultation with the missionary 
the woman departs to obtain two friends to be 
present on the auspicious occasion, and also to se- 
cure the loan of a prayer-book — the Morning Serv- 
ice abridged from the Book of Common Prayer, 
which is in use by the missionaries. James M., 
. the slave so often flogged and punished, she 
knows has both hymn-book and prayer-book, as 
well as a Bible, for he has shown them to her ; and 
as he is now laid up from a ■" terrible beating " re- 
ceived only a day or two ago, she can go and bor- 
row the book from him. In the course of an hour 
or so she returns with the book, and intimates that 
the friends she went for will soon be on the spot. 
By the time she has donned the clean, humble 
suit, in which she appears a good-looking, buxom 
quadroon, the invited guests make their appear- 
ance in holiday trim. Meanwhile the blacksmith 
has got rid of all traces of his smoky trade from 
his hands and face, and presents himself in a 
coarse linen suit of snowy whiteness, the getting 
up of which does credit to the woman's skill as a 
laundress, all ready to play the part of bridegroom 
in the ceremony so unexpectedly improvised. In 
a short time the mutual vow has been exchanged, 



156 Romance Without Fiction. 

the hymeneal benediction pronounced, and the 
parties declared to be man and wife. The mar- 
riage certificate is made out, duly attested by the 
witnesses as well as the officiating minister, who 
gives the married pair to understand that on his 
return home the marriage will be duly recorded in 
the marriage register, kept at the mission chapel at 
the Bay. 

The incidents we have related are linked with 
important results, affecting the unchanging desti- 
nies of many souls all around that neighborhood. 
The missionary declines the urgent invitation of 
the bride to stay and get some dinner before he 
continues his journey. With smiling satisfaction 
at the unanticipated events of the day, she offers 
to get dinner ready with all possible expedition, 
that he may not be unduly detained. This, how- 
ever, he is under the necessity of declining, as the 
day is now far advanced, and half his journey — 
the least laborious half, as it is chiefly down hill — 
yet remains to be accomplished. Neither host 
nor hostess will listen to any offer of remuneration 
for the substantial breakfast provided for him ; and 
' both warmly invite the missionary, when he returns, 
and whenever he passes that way, to make the house 
his resting-place. 

As the missionary looks abroad from the house 
the scene spread before his eyes all around is one 
of enchanting loveliness. For miles in all direc- 
tions stretch the "pens," or large cattle-farms, 
forming an important part of the properties or es- 
tates of Jamaica, where „are bred the fine horned. 



The Blacksmith's Wedding. 157 

cattle, horses, and mules, required for carrying on 
the cultivation and manufacture of the sugar plan- 
tations. Large fields of luxuriant Guinea-grass 
growing ten or twelve feet high ; wide-spreading 
pasture fields of common grass all inclosed by 
stone walls, and thickly studded with clumps of 
cedar or broad leaf, and orange-trees, to afford 
shelter to the cattle from the tropical sun, present 
themselves to his admiring gaze. The white build- 
ings of these numerous properties, with the clus- 
tered huts of the slaves, surrounded by innumer- 
able cocoanut and other fruit-trees, give variety 
and beauty to the landscape. Here and there the 
eye rests upon some giant ceiba, or silk-cotton- 
tree, whose immense but symmetrical trunk shoots 
up branches to a height of seventy or eighty feet 
from the midst of ten or a dozen stupendous but- 
tresses, and then throws abroad its wide-spreading 
arms clothed with dense foliage, covering with its 
ample shade almost half an acre of ground. The 
landscape is enchanting in its park-like scenery 
and perennial verdure. But the soul of the mis- 
sionary is stirred within him as he thinks upon 
the fact that among the many thousands who 
live within the range of his vision the Maker of 
all this beauty and grandeur is scarcely known, 
and that the twofold curse of slavery and perse- 
cution rests upon the few who care for their own 
souls, and dare to call upon His name. 

Suddenly the thought occurs to him, Whence 
comes the suggestion ? May not the strange mar- 
riage which has just taken place prepare the way 



158 Romance Without Fiction. 

for bringing the Gospel of Christ to this dark 
neighborhood ? The land all around, for miles, 
is included in the large properties whose mana- 
gers, as one man, are combined to oppose the 
Christian instruction of the slaves. Rut would it 
not be practicable, if the newly married pair will 
consent to brave the reproach and opposition that 
are sure to follow, to have religious services on 
the land placed, for the term of the woman's life, 
beyond the control of the proprietor and authori- 
ties of the estate of which it has been, and is again 
at her death to be, a part ? Turning to the woman, 
he inquires if she would not like to have mission- 
ary services brought to the neighborhood ; for 
there are none within eighteen miles. Her face be- 
comes radiant with joy at the thought ; and when 
the missionary suggests that their own premises 
may serve for the purpose, both husband and wife 
yield a cheerful and joyous assent. The traveler 
then joyfully resumes his journey, cheered by the 
persuasion that the Lord has directed his footsteps 
in a way that will lead to the enlargement of the 
work he has at heart and the salvation of many souls. 
The tidings are soon spread abroad that the 
missionary is coming to preach at the black- 
smith's shop at Ramble. Hundreds all around 
are gladdened by the intelligence ; most of all the 
slaves, who have found it so difficult to get to the 
Bay, in order that they might hear about Jesus 
Christ and the way to heaven. Upon some others 
the effect is different. The planters all around are 
resolved if possible to prevent the invasion of their 



The Blacksmith's Wedding. 159 

locality by missionaries, and one after another goes 
to the blacksmith, some persuading, others threat- 
ening him with the loss of custom, and even hold- 
ing out threats of a darker kind. Were it not for 
his wife it is possible he might give way to the 
urgent remonstrances addressed to him, for he as 
yet has felt but little concern about religion and 
his soul. But she remains immovable : since that 
missionary's visit which led to her marriage she 
has felt concerning God and her soul's destiny as 
she never did before. She has been conversing 
with some of the praying, converted slaves, and 
her mind is made up to seek religion and flee 
from the wrath to come. She comes to the res- 
cue, standing by her husband's side and vindicat- 
ing their right to do as they please with the prop- 
erty, and to devote it to such uses as they see fit 
during her life-time. 

The appointed Sabbath arrives, and the mis- 
sionary is there, having gone thither on the pre- 
ceding evening to be ready for an early morning 
service. A small room, just large enough to con- 
tain a bedstead, table, and chair, has been set 
apart as a prophet's chamber. The bed linen is 
coarse, but clean and comfortable, and there the 
minister is to find accommodation whenever he 
comes to visit the neighborhood. Late at night 
numerous visitors arrive to see "the parson," all 
of whom are slaves from the surrounding proper- 
ties, and most extravagant are their demonstra- 
tions of joy that the Gospel is to be brought into 
the midst of their own homes. It is in the smithy 



160 Romance Without Fiction. 

that the services are to be held, and man^ sturdy 
hands set to work to prepare the place for the oc- 
casion. It is a labor of love. Cart-wheels, and old 
iron, and the implements of the blacksmith's trade, 
are all carried outside the buildings. The ashes 
are cleared away from the forge, and the rough 
floor swept clean, and it is but little short of mid- 
night when the preparations are completed. When 
the cheerful workers take their departure they 
leave behind them an ample supply of fowls, eggs, 
vegetables, and fruit, which they have brought to 
contribute to the missionary's entertainment. 

Daylight has scarcely dawned when the mission- 
ary is aroused by voices underneath, and discovers 
that the people are beginning to assemble for the 
early service. Looking through the jalousie win- 
dow, which admits both light and air to his room, 
he can see through the gray dawn numerous par- 
ties crossing the pastures from various directions. 
All are clothed in the coarse blue cloth garments 
which they receive yearly from their owners, and 
which the keen mountain air at such an early hour 
of the day, and the heavy dew resting upon every 
thing without, render necessary to these denizens 
of a sunny clime. % Men, women, and children are 
flocking to the place, most of them bearing coarse 
wooden chairs or small benches for their own ac- 
commodation at the place of prayer. By the time 
the sun is showing himself in a full blaze of glory 
in the east the missionary has descended from 
his chamber to commence the worship of God. 
Every corner of the blacksmith's shop is crowded; 



The Blacksmith's Wedding. 161 

bellows, sloping chimney, and forge, all occu- 
pied by children, whose sooty complexion seems 
to harmonize well with the position they occupy, 
and who gaze with silent amazement upon the 
strange scene, never having before looked upon 
an assembly gathered to hear the preaching of 
God's truth. All around the building there is a 
crowd, for the shop contains not more than a 
fourth of the congregation, and there are five or 
six hundred persons assembled. A short service 
of about an hour's duration closes w T ith the hearty 
amens of the congregation, many of whom have 
now heard a sermon for the first time, and the 
crowd disperses, hastening homeward to prepare 
themselves for the two other services which are 
to follow in the course of the day. Again in the 
forenoon and afternoon there is a listening multi- 
tude yet larger than that which was present at the 
earlier worship. Nor is the word preached in vain. 
Angels bear the glad tidings to heaven of men and 
women pricked in their hearts, and there is joy in 
the courts above over repenting sinners. Tears 
of sorrow for sin moisten many sable cheeks, and 
tears of joy and gladness run down others because 
" the joyful sound " is brought to their own doors. 
It is a lovely and a lively scene that presents it- 
self during the interval of the morning and after- 
noon worship. Groups of men and women gath- 
ered under the shade of the orange-trees, which 
thickly stud the adjacent pastures, are talking of 
the things of God, or engaged in prayer. Valen- 
tine Ward looked upon this scene several years 



162 Romance Without Fiction. 

later, after having preached his last sermon, and 
finished an eminent career of usefulness, in that 
blacksmith's shop. When he beheld the classes 
with their leaders grouped beneath the trees he 
wept as he glorified God for what he had wrought 
among those children of Africa, pronouncing it to 
be the most interesting scene that had ever greeted 
his eyes, and the Sabbath spent there the happiest 
of his life. It was the last of his earthly Sabbaths, 
for four days after he was laid in the grave. When 
he was sinking, smitten by yellow fever, in the de- 
lirium of death his imagination was still occupied 
with the Sabbath scene that had so enchanted 
him, and he continued to gaze upon it, and to 
talk of it until the more glorious realities of eter- 
nity burst upon his vision, and he passed away to 
be forever with the Lord. 

For several years the blacksmith's shop contin- 
ued to be used as a place of worship. A long 
shed was erected by the religious slaves of the 
neighborhood along one side of the building, and 
at one end, thatched with cocoa-nut leaves, to 
shelter the worshipers from sun and rain. Lowly 
as it was, it became a center of light to the neigh- 
borhood. No imposing ritual was practiced there, 
and no surpliced priests and choirs intoned the 
prayers and lessons ; but beneath that humble 
roof many souls were born to glory — made wise 
unto salvation by the faithful preaching of the 
Gospel. Many persecuted slaves, who had en- 
dured the lash and the gyves for the sake of a 
good conscience, there found comfort in their 



The Blacksmith's Wedding. 163 

trials, and obtained strength to endure the grind- 
ing oppression to which they were subjected by 
hireling overseers. These men hated the black- 
smith's shop and the religion taught there, with 
all who possessed it, because of the unexpected 
checks they now met with in the indulgence of an 
unbridled sensuality. But their opposition and 
their cruelty were in vain. The work of the Lord 
went on, and prospered. Whites, free colored 
people, slaves, alike felt the power of the truth, 
and submitted themselves to the Gospel yoke, 
becoming, in doing so, the freemen of the Lord. 
And there in due time infantile voices were heard 
in the songs and routine of the Sab>bath- school, 
learning to worship and serve Him who said, " Suf- 
fer the little children to come unto me." 

Gradually the opposition ceased. The planters 
found that religion made their servants trustwor- 
thy, intelligent, and faithful. The proprietor of 
the estate with which the blacksmith's shop was 
connected began to look with favorable eye upon 
the services that at first he had so bitterly op- 
posed. To the surprise of many he himself 
sought and found the peace of conscience for 
which through many years he had yearned with 
an intensity of longing that only a deep conscious- 
ness of guilt can produce, for his hands were 
stained with blood. A dark cloud had been cast 
over his life by the fatal result of a duel with a 
former friend, arising out of a drunken carouse. 
His friend had fallen by his hand, and was gone, 
with all his sins upon his head, to face his Maker 

11 



164 Romance Without Fiction. 

and his Judge. From the moment he saw his ill- 
fated companion fall dead before his fatal weapon 
he had known no peace. Gloom settled upon his 
soul, and he scarcely mingled at all with his fel- 
low-men. But the peace of God, which came to 
many hearts in that blacksmith's shop, came also 
to him, and dispersed the gloom that had dark- 
ened his life and prospects. He was enabled by 
faith to cast his blood-guiltiness upon the Saviour, 
and lifted his head in hope. The gift of a suitable 
site for a mission station near the blacksmith's 
premises was one of the fruits of the gracious 
change he experienced. A chapel and parsonage, 
with a good and commodious school-room, were 
in due time erected there. It became the head 
of a circuit, bearing the name of the venerable 
man who there performed the last act of his 
Christian ministry. And the Mount Ward Sta- 
tion, most delightfully situated, stands a center of 
light and blessing to the neighborhood, and is des- 
tined, we trust, to be the birthplace of many souls 
in the generations of the future. 



In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 165 




VIII. 

In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 

Why should old age escape unnoticed here 

That sacred era to reflection dear ? 

That peaceful shore where passion dies away, 

Like the last wave that ripples o'er the bay ? 

O, if old age were canceled from our lot, 

Full soon would man deplore the unhallowed blot ! 

Life's busy day would want its tranquil even, 

And earth would lose her stepping-stone to heaven. 

Caeoltnu Gilmak. 

"AVING just finished the Sabbath morning 
service, and attended to some other pastoral 
duties in the oldest chapel in the island of 
Jamaica, a chapel which bears the name of the 
good and zealous Doctor Coke,- the founder of the 
Wesleyan missions, the young missionary who has 
officiated, and who has been only two or three 
years in the work, is about to retire from the 
sanctuary. Before reaching the door he is ac- 
costed by a decently-dressed black female, long 
past the prime of womanhood, with the request 
that he will go and visit a person who is sick. 

" Me come for ax minister if him will find time 
in de afternoon to go and visit a very old woman, 
who has been long time in de society, and is 'bout 
•'pon dying." 

" You say the person is very old ? " 



1 66 Romance Without Fiction. 

" Yes, minister. Him de oldest person in de 
town, and bin in de society from de time of Mr. 
Campbell ; and him bin quite old, minister, where 
him first jine the Church. " 

" Is she a free person, or a slave ? " 

" Old Moggy bin slave, minister. Him bin come 
to dis country in slave-ship 'bout de time of de 
great urtquake." 

" The great earthquake ! You surely do not 
mean the earthquake that destroyed Port Royal ? " 

" Yes, minister, me believe so ; for so me hear 
dem say. Him quite old woman, minister, when 
for me mammy bin one little pickaninny so 
high, minister," holding her hand about two feet 
and a half from the ground, to indicate that 
her mother, a't the time alluded to, was a very 
little girl. 

Having certified himself concerning the locality 
to which the desired visit is to be directed, he 
dismisses the woman with the promise that he 
will go and see the sick person before the evening 
service. 

When the afternoon is sufficiently advanced to 
modify, in some measure, the fierce heat of a 
tropical sun, and enable him to thread his way 
through the streets within the shadow of the 
houses, the young missionary directs his footsteps 
to that part of the city where old Moggy, if the 
account he has received be correct, is passing 
through the closing scenes of a strangely pro- 
tracted life. After some inquiry he finds the yard 
which has been described to him. On raising the 



In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 167 

latch and pushing open the somewhat dilapidated 
door, he perceives, in company with several others, 
adorned, like herself, in broad-brimmed straw hat 
and muslin gown and handkerchief, light, neat 
and exquisitely clean, the same woman he had 
conversed with in the earlier part of the day. She 
advances, with a broad smile upon her face, to 
welcome him with the usual salutation, " Glad for 
see minister." The yard is a square open space, 
pertaining to a large respectable-looking house in 
front, the out offices of which occupy one side of 
the square : the opposite side and the end being 
filled with a range of negro rooms, appearing to 
have been built and fitted with some regard to the 
comfort of those for whose use they were intended. 
Around the door of one of these apartments are 
sitting, upon wooden chairs of a very humble de- 
scription, the women referred to, who all rise, and 
courtesy very respectfully to the visitor, and greet 
him with, " How d'ye, me minister ? " or, " Glad 
for see minister : " their white glistening teeth con- 
trasting pleasantly with the dusky hue of their 
smiling countenances. Preceded by one of these 
women, who has advanced to receive him, he 
enters the room, which is small but clean 
and comfortable, and there, on a low bed, sup- 
ported by several pillows, lies the object of his 
visit. 

She is a negro woman, greatly shrunken and 
shriveled by age ; and, but for the eyes, which re- 
tain a considerable degree of brightness and 
intelligence, would more resemble an unrolled 



1 68 Romance Without Fiction. 

Egyptian mummy than any thing else he can 
think of. She lifts her eyes toward the minister, 
as he advances to the bedside, with a look of in- 
quiry ; but when the woman, stooping near to her, 
and speaking in a tone somewhat raised, says, 
" Moggy, here is minister come to see you," a 
gleam of gladness passes over the wrinkled features, 
and she lifts her withered hand to welcome him. 
Seating himself on a chair, which has been politely 
handed to him, the young missionary proceeds to 
inquire concerning her bodily ailments. " Old 
and weak, minister/' is the reply ; and he finds, 
on extending his inquiries to those who seem to 
have charge of her, that she exhibits no indications 
of disease, but a general sinking of the vital 
powers. The weary wheels of life, which have 
been going actively for so many years, are now 
beginning to stand still. He then seeks to lead 
her thoughts to other things, and inquires if she 
knows and feels the love of Christ. " O yes ! 
massa," she replies as a brighter light kindles in 
her eyes, and seems to suffuse the entire counte- 
nance, " Jesus bery precious." 

Although the sounds proceeding from her tooth- 
less mouth are weak, and not very intelligible to his 
unaccustomed ear, yet, with the help of those around 
who can better understand what she endeavors to 
express, he can gather that she was converted to 
God under the ministry of Mr. Fish, one of the 
earliest missionaries to the colonies ; that she knew 
Dr. Coke, and heard* him preach ; and that she 
was " a very old woman when Massa Jesus par- 



In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 1 69 

doned her sins — too old for work." Having, to 
her manifest comfort and joy, spoken cheering 
words about that glorious heaven so soon to be 
her home, and near the very portals of which she 
is lingering until the Master makes the sign for 
her to enter, he bows in prayer at the bedside of 
the aged disciple and takes his departure. But 
he is resolved, if life is spared, to inquire further 
about a case which is to him profoundly interesting 
beyond any that has come within the range of his 
brief experience or observation. 

The forenoon of the following day finds the 
missionary again at the bedside of old Moggy, 
who seems to be little changed from the preced- 
ing day. The remembrance of his former visit 
has not passed away from her ; for the same ex- 
pression of pleasure passes over her countenance 
that brightened it then, when the same attendant 
informs her that " minister is come to pray with 
you again." A few words about Jesus and his 
dying love, and a short, earnest prayer, lead the 
thoughts of the old Christian up to God. Her 
faculties seem to brighten as the remembrance 
of her Saviour's gracious dealings with her, and 
the glorious future that lies before her, passes 
through her mind, and she gives repeated utter- 
ance to the expression, " Bless the Lord! " 

Leading her memory back upon the past, he 
questions her concerning the principal facts of her 
history, to ascertain, if possible, whether she is 
really of such advanced age as the facts before re- 
ferred to would seem to indicate. That she is 



170 Romance Without Fiction. 

extremely old her appearance testifies ; and per- 
sons well advanced in age can only remember 
Moggy as a very old woman when they were very 
young. Her own account of herself has always 
been that she was brought from Africa in a slave- 
ship, and that she was stolen and carried off from 
her parents*" when me pickaninny so, minister,'' 
placing her hand so as to indicate the height of a 
child some eight or ten years old. When she 
arrived in Jamaica it was four days after the 
earthquake that destroyed Port Royal, and the 
people who had escaped from that fearful visita- 
tion were living in sheds made of cocoa-nut leaves 
and branches of trees on the spot where the city 
of Kingston was afterward erected. He questions 
her minutely upon all these points, and she affirms 
that it is all true, and that she remembers it well. 
Carried off by violence from her father and moth- 
er, she was taken to the ship, and with many others, 
young and old, brought over the sea to Jamaica. 
They were a long time at sea ; and when the ship 
came to land she saw the ruins of the city, which 
had been partially swallowed up, and she was put 
ashore where the people were all living in sheds 
and tents. The town was built after that upon the 
same spot, and she had lived there ever since. She 
had belonged to several owners, had never been 
badly treated, but had never been made free. 
When the missionaries came she went to hear the 
preaching, and " found out that she was one great 
sinner; and she prayed to Massa Jesus, and he 
made her soul happy, and religion had made her 



In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 171 

happy all the time, and she was now going home to 
Jesus, to be happy forever." 

Moggy has no idea about the number of years 
which have transpired in connection with any part 
of her history. A few leading facts are firmly 
rooted in 'her memory, and these are held with 
tenacious grasp ; but of the lapse of time, measured 
by months and years, she has no conception. Her 
mind on that subject is a blank. " A long time 
ago " is all she knows about it. She cannot tell 
how long she has been in the Church ; but she 
knew Dr. Coke, and it was through Mr. Fish's 
preaching she was brought to God and made 
happy " a long time ago." She does not know 
how many years it is since she was brought to the 
country as a slave ; " it was long time ago," and it 
was " four days after de urtquake kill all de 
people at Port Royal." She is quite sure of that. 
She is unable to tell how old she was when bad 
men stole her from her country. " It was long 
time ago ; me pickaninny so " — endeavoring to 
describe the height of a child some three feet from 
the ground. These form the great landmarks of 
her life's history. And while thousands of inci- 
dents, which, for the time, were fraught with in- 
terest, have been blotted by the hand of time from 
her recollection, these remain, fixed and ineradi- 
cable, until the light oi eternal day shall fully 
restore all the forgotten memories of the past, and 
stamp them sources of inexhaustible joy or woe to 
all eternity. 

It must be so ! Strange and incredible as it may 



172 Romance Without Fiction. 

seem, there is no just reason to doubt it. There, 
in that frail, shrunken specimen of humanity is 
one whose memory goes back to a period more 
than one hundred and forty years distant, one who 
has seen the changes and vicissitudes of at least 
one hundred and forty-eight years of experience 
in this world of evil. The great earthquake she 
refers to occurred in 1692. It is now A. D. 1834 ; 
and, allowing that she was six years of age when 
she was brought a slave to these shores, which she 
must have been to be able to remember these 
events so distinctly, she has now arrived at the ex- 
traordinary age of one hundred and forty-eight. 
Here is one who has passed through the unparal- 
leled term of more than one hundred and forty 
years of slave life. True, she has always been in 
kind hands, and has always been a domestic serv- 
ant, well fed. and clothed ; never, like many others, 
having her flesh lacerated with the cruel whip. 
But she has been in bondage while nearly five gen- 
erations of men have passed across the stage of 
life ; and now the decree has gone forth that, in a 
few months, the wrongful* system which makes 
human beings slaves under the British flag is to 
cease forever. 

But old Moggy will not live to see it. After 
one hundred and forty years and more of slavery 
she is to go down to the grave — still a bond- 
woman. This matters little, however. There is 
no slavery, no oppression, or wrong, in that better 
land she is passing to : for there is no more curse. 
No sighing shall be there. It is the region of 



In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 173 

unbroken rest and peace, where the loving Hand, 
once pierced for sin, shall wipe away the tears from 
every eye, and all the signs and sources of sorrow 
shall be forever dried up. There is one of whom 
it may well be said, is not this a wonderful instance 
of God's long-suffering goodness ? For when more 
than a hundred years of her mortal pilgrimage 
had passed away words of Divine mercy fell upon 
her ear ; light from heaven shone into the dark 
mind where scarce a ray of intelligence had ever 
beamed before. The fountain of penitence was 
opened in her breast ; and, going with a troubled 
heart to that precious Saviour, of whom now, for 
the first time in ten decades of life, she had heard, 
she cast her soul upon him in simple, childlike 
trust, and the guilt accumulating through a whole 
century of darkness and sin was, in great mercy, 
rolled away. Filled with peace and joy in believ- 
ing, a heaven of love rising up in her soul, she 
felt herself 

"A slave redeem'd from death and sin, 
A brand pluck'd from eternal fire ! " 

With what strange emotions the missionary 
gazes upon the shriveled, wasted form of old 
Moggy, retaining but little of the semblance of 
humanity, naught of the grace and beauty of the 
gentler sex ! He adores the riches of that grace 
which stooped to her in extreme old age, and in 
the degradation of slave-life, to bring her to the 
cross, dispel the gloom that had long settled upon 
her spirit, and, waking up the moral faculties 



174 Romance Without Fiction. 

which had lain dormant for a century, make her a 
happy child of God and an heir of eternal life ! 
Once and again he repairs to that bedside to pour 
out his heart in prayer with this wonderful monu- 
ment of saving grace and mercy. But every time 
he appears there it becomes more and more evident 
that life is ebbing out at last, and the close of this 
lengthened earthly pilgrimage is close at hand. 
It is pleasing to observe the loving care with 
which those about her — bound to her by no ties 
of kindred and blood, but only sisters in the 
Church — minister to her age and helplessness, 
and surround her with cleanliness and comfort; 
smoothing the pillow of the dying saint with ten- 
der Christian sympathy to the end. The end soon 
comes. More and more the vital energies flag, 
until " Jesus " is the only word that is heard to dwell 
upon her withered lips. Even that, at length, is 
heard no more. She is motionless and just slight- 
ly breathing when the missionary kneels for the 
last time beside her, commending the departing 
spirit to its Saviour. Before another sun gilds 
with its morning splendors the blue mountain tops 
of the land of springs, before the Sabbath has 
come, round, old Moggy, probably the oldest 
human being on the earth, has ceased to be num- 
bered among the living — has 

" Found the rest we toil to find, 
Landed in the arms of God." 

Peaceful and gentle was the end of the poor 
aged slave woman. Without a motion or a sound 



In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 175 

she slowly ceased to breathe and live, and it was 
only when the withered limbs began to stiffen in 
the icy grasp of death that those about her were 
certified that the spirit had passed to its home. 
The same evening — for in the tropics delay in bury- 
ing the dead out of sight is inadmissible — the remains 
were deposited in the old burying-ground to the 
eastward of the city. There a goodly multitude 
await the fulfillment of Jehovah's decree of predes- 
tination concerning his saints, when, raised from 
the dust of death to a glorious immortality, they 
shall be " conformed to his image," " fashioned 
like unto his glorious body," "be like him," the 
physical with the moral and intellectual nature 
having been redeemed from the curse of sin with 
a price "all price beyond," and, rendered trans- 
cendently perfect, beautiful, and dazzling, " shall 
shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their 
Father." 

This remarkable instance of protracted slave 
life does not stand alone. In the " Kingston 
Chronicle," (Jamaica,) June 14, 1819,. there ap- 
peared the following notice : 

" Roger Hope Elletson died at the Hope 
estate on Monday, the 31st of May, aged upward 
of one hundred and forty years." 

The subject of this notice was generally called 
Old Hope, and was born and died a slave, having, 
like Old Moggy, existed in three centuries, and 
seen at least four generations of men pass across 
the stage of life. As in the other case, no written 
document or record proved his" age ; but he too 



176 Romance Without Fiction. 

had a remembrance of the great earthquake that 
destroyed Port Royal in 1692, and caused the 
founding of the city of Kingston. He was then a 
father, not less than eighteen or twenty years of 
age. In Long's History of Jamaica, published in 
1774, speaking of the salubrious climate, and the 
frequent longevity of the inhabitants, the historian 
says : " I can remember three white inhabitants, 
each of whom exceeded one hundred years. I 
know others now living beyond ninety, and about 
five years ago I conversed with a negro man who 
remembered perfectly well the great earthquake 
which destroyed Port Royal in 1692, and by his 
own account he could not have been much under 
eighteen or twenty when that event happened. 
These persons were not, as in northern countries, 
decrepit or bedridden, but lively, and able to stir 
about, their appetites good, and their faculties 
moderately sound. " 

It is generally understood that Old Hope was 
the negro man the historian conversed with, who 
was then nearly one hundred years of age, and 
survived that period forty-five years. His extreme 
age attracted to him the notice of Admiral Doug- 
las, and the intelligence he manifested made him 
a favorite object of the admiral's liberality and 
kindness so long as he remained on the station. 

Old Hope was born a slave at Merryman's Hill, 
an old sugar plantation in the parish of St. An- 
drew, but he spent the greater part of his long life 
on the Hope estate, to which he had been sold 
when young. He had a perfect recollection of the 



In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years. 177 

terrible shocks of the great convulsion of nature 
that destroyed the capital of the island. He 
could also remember two other remarkable events 
which took place about the same time, although 
he failed to recollect the order of their occur- 
rence, except that the one was before and the 
other after the earthquake. The two events to 
which his memory thus went back in the distant 
past were a great storm, and an abortive attempt 
on the part of the French to effect a landing on 
the island. The great storm alluded to took place 
in 1689, three years before the earthquake, and 
the effort of the French to take the colony in 
slave named Toney, who died a few years before 
1694, two years after that memorable event. He 
could not tell how long it was since he had done 
any work, but it was a great many years, and a 
on the same estate, eighty years of age, said, " Old 
Hope must be twice as old as myself, as he was an 
old man — too old to work — when I was a picka- 
ninny." Old Hope had never been sick that he 
could remember, and he never drank rum or any 
ardent spirit in the course of his life. From first 
to last he had always had good masters, from 
whom he received much kindness, and he never 
remembered having been treated with harshness 
or severity. 

Admiral Douglas had the portrait of this old 
slave painted, for the purpose of taking it to En- 
gland, believing Old Hope to be, as he probably 
then was, the oldest specimen of the human race 
alive upon the earth. This was in 1817, two years 



178 Romance Without Fiction. 

before his death. He was then not less than one 
hundred and forty-three years of age, yet he 
walked to Kingston, a distance from the Hope 
estate of between six and seven miles, without any 
over fatigue, whenever the artist required him to 
sit. 

At length the end of his long earthly pilgrimage 
came. An attack of intermittent fever greatly 
undermined his strength, so that it was with 
difficulty he could walk to the city and back 
after he recovered from it. But this he did two 
or three times. Through all these years he 
continued ignorant of the Gospel and the great 
salvation, and it was not until the shadows of the 
grave were drawing around him that he felt any 
concern about religion. About two months be- 
fore his death he desired to be " made a Chris- 
tian ;" and, in compliance with his earnest wishes, 
was taken to the parish church to be baptized on 
Easter Sunday, April n, this being the only idea 
those about him had of making him a Christian. 
That the Spirit of God was, however, working 
upon his mind and heart was evident from the 
fact that as he drew near to his end those around 
him heard him engaged frequently in earnest 
prayer, though they could not always distinctly 
make out what he said. Living away from the 
city, and in the bondage of slave-life, he had had 
but few opportunities of coming to the light of 
saving truth. But that some scattered rays had 
reached him and penetrated his mind may justly 
be inferred from the earnest prayers which he 



In Slavery a Hundred and Forty Years, 179 

offered up during the few weeks preceding his re- 
moval to another world. And may we not hope 
that He who heard the prayers of Cornelius before 
the glorious light of the Gospel came in contact 
with his mind, and who requires of men according 
to that which they have, and not according to that 
they have not, responded in saving mercy to the 
sincere but ignorant petitions of the aged unlet- 
tered slave ? Different, very different, however, 
were the death-bed prospects of old Moggy, who 
for many years had enjoyed the rich consolations 
of the Gospel, and rejoiced in the unclouded hope 
of eternal life. 

Old Hope never left the estate after he returned 
from being baptized, but during seven weeks his 
strength gradually declined, till at length the 
weary wheels of life stood still on Whit Monday, 
May 31, and the spirit that for nearly a century 
and a half had inhabited the shriveled tabernacle 
of clay passed to its destiny. His age was made 
out to be one hundred and forty-five. Eighteen 
years old when the earthquake occurred in 1692, 
which was the great landmark of his life, he sur- 
vived to 1819. 

12 



i8o Romance Without Fiction. 



IX. 

The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 

Leagued with rapacious rovers of the main, 

HaytTs barbarian hunters harass'd Spain ; 

A mammoth race, invincible in might, 

Kapine and massacre their grim delight, 

Peril their element : — o'er land and flood 

They carried fire and quench' d the flames with blood ; 

Despairing captives haiTd them from the coasts ; 

They rush'd to conquest, led by Charib ghosts. — Montgomery. 



r^ 



JHE preceding sketch describes two remark- 
able cases of longevity, both of them relating 
to individuals who were held in slavery 
through fourteen decades of human life, the age 
in both instances being determined by the memo- 
ry of a great and overwhelming catastrophe, which 
few who witnessed it could ever forget while they 
were capable of remembering anything. With re- 
gard to the aged disciple of Christ who, after a 
pilgrimage of one hundred and forty-eight years' 
duration, passed away from the world, in peace 
with God, and -in joyful hope of being with him 
forever, the calamitous event determining her 
age marked a new era in her checkered life by 
fixing indelibly the period of her arrival as a 
slave upon a foreign shore. It marked a new 
era also in the history of the colony, inasmuch 
as it caused the seat of government to be trans- 
ferred to a new locality, and gave rise to the city 



The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 181 

which from that time has been the mercantile 
capital of the island. By this appalling visitation 
the capital town with all the Government build- 
ings, the public records of the colony, and most 
of the public and official men, was suddenly swept 
away and swallowed up. It was one of the most 
remarkable convulsions of nature of which any 
record has been made. 

The present town of Port Royal — for the town 
was not so entirely destroyed as not to admit of be- 
ing rebuilt on a smaller scale — occupies a singu- 
lar position on the south side of Jamaica. About 
six or seven miles eastward of the city of Kings- 
ton a narrow tongue of land stretches out from 
the main shore, sloping off at first in a south-west- 
erly direction, and then running nearly parallel 
with the southern coast for nine or ten miles. 
This peninsula, known as "The Palisades, " in- 
closed a fine sheet of water from two to three 
miles in width, and forms a natural breakwater to 
one of the finest harbors in the world, large enough 
to afford anchorage for all the navies of Europe 
and America. It is very possible that the space 
occupied by this expanse of water was once solid 
ground, and has been made what it now is by the 
sinking of the land, through one of those natural 
convulsions which occasionally work such great 
changes in this part of the world. 

Some six or eight miles westward of Kingston 
the main coast makes a sudden curve, and stretches 
boldly out in a southern direction for some miles, 
forming at the southern extremity what is known 



1 82 Romance Without Fiction. 

as Portland Point, and there exhibiting a bold 
rocky coast with an eastern aspect, upon the 
heights of which may be seen " The Battery of the 
Twelve Apostles." Further in, low down upon a 
marshy shore, is the strong military station of 
Fort Augusta, whose powerful batteries completely 
command the channel by which alone vessels of 
large tonnage can approach Kingston. Right op- 
posite, to the east of the Apostles' Battery, across 
a channel about four miles wide, is the town of 
Port Royal, situated at the extreme point of the 
tongue of land we have described, and almost sur- 
rounded by the sea. Around this point, frowning 
with powerful batteries, all vessels have to pass 
into Kingston harbor. The sharp captain that 
would slip off to sea without paying harbor dues 
finds it a difficult matter to accomplish. " The 
pass," which is necessary to clear his way, must 
be lodged with the proper official at Port Royal 
before his ship can be permitted to thread the in- 
tricate navigation which guards the approach to 
Port Royal Point, where it would be no difficult 
matter to sink a vessel in a very few minutes with 
the massive artillery that crowns the point in all 
directions. 

The tongue of land on which Port Royal stands 
is a bank of loose sand, resting upon the solid 
rocks far down beneath the surface of the waters. 
It is for some miles partly covered with stunted 
mangrove bushes. Half a mile to the eastward of 
the town three or four half-blighted, sickly-look- 
ing cocoa-nut trees mark the spot which is the 



The Rendezvous of the Bticcaneers. 183 

burying-place of the inhabitants. The coffins are 
deposited in such holes as can be scooped out in the 
loose sand ; and being seldom sunk much below 
the surface, because of the shifting character of 
the ground, are sometimes, after the prevalence 
of strong winds which blow away the sand, left 
altogether bare and exposed, and the festering re- 
mains of mortality they have inclosed are ren- 
dered accessible to prowling birds of prey. Multi- 
tudes of sailors and officers of the British navy, 
and not a few officers and men belonging to the 
military service, cut down suddenly by the deadly- 
fever familiarly known as "Yellow Jack," have 
found their last resting-place here. Both in the 
army and navy the Palisades of Jamaica are asso- 
ciated only with saddening thoughts of disease 
and death. 

Port Royal is the principal British naval station 
in the West Indies, and was in this respect much 
more important than it now is, before the head- 
quarters for the West India squadron were trans- 
ferred to Halifax, Nova Scotia. It possesses an 
extensive dock-yard, with massive stone buildings, 
and all the machinery and paraphernalia necessary 
for heaving down vessels of the largest class. It 
has also a very commodious and handsome naval 
hospital, where every thing is maintained in the 
high state of perfection essential to such an insti- 
tution. It possesses large ranges of batteries, and 
also extensive barracks for a considerable military 
force. The population of the town now consists 
largely of employes in connection with the naval 



1 84 Romance Without Fiction. 

and military establishments, with a few tradesmen, 
dealers in provisions, and lodging-house keepers, 
who furnish accommodation to persons resorting 
thither for a sanitary change. There are no man- 
ufactures of any kind ; nor is there any cultivation 
of the soil beyond the growth of a few stunted 
shrubs and plants, for the whole is a bed of sand. 
There is no road extending beyond the narrow 
limits of the town ; the only access to the place 
being by boats in which provisions of all kinds are 
brought, chiefly from Kingston. There are no 
springs ; the* inhabitants are supplied with water 
brought in sailing water-tanks from Rockfort, a 
distance of eight or nine miles. An Episcopal 
Church and a Baptist place of worship furnish op- 
portunity for the religious instruction of the peo- 
ple, together with a Wesleyan chapel and mission 
house, occupied by a resident minister as one of 
the outstations of the Kingston Circuit, and this 
has been the birthplace of many souls. 

It was in the time of Cromwell that Penn and 
Venables — both treacherous to the ruler who 
trusted them — after failing in the attack upon San 
Domingo, seized upon Jamaica, and wrested it 
from the hands of the Spaniards, that the expedi- 
tion they commanded might not return under the 
disgrace of having accomplished nothing. Then 
it was that Port Royal, because of its situation and 
capabilities for defense, became the capital of the 
British colony. Here, situated like ancient Tyre, 
in a position of commanding strength and import- 
ance, it became, like her, the seat of wealth and 



The Rendezvous of the Bueeaneers. 185 

power, and the mercantile rendezvous and empo- 
rium for the New World. Buildings suitable for 
all Government purposes were erected in the sea- 
girt town, and the governor and all the Govern- 
ment officials took up their abode here. It also 
became the head-quarters both of the army and 
navy, and here were established the principal 
courts of law. 

But that which raised Port Royal to great im- 
portance, and made it the depository of enormous 
wealth, was that, from its situation, so easy of ac- 
cess from the sea, it became the favored resort of 
the buccaneers, whose piratical plundering ex- 
ploits formed the theme of many a romantic tale, 
and made them the terror and the wonder of the 
New World. This formidable association of free- 
booters was called at first " Brethren of the Coast ;" 
but afterward they became better known under 
the designation of Buccaneers or Boucaniers. 
Occupying extensive hunting grounds in Hispani- 
ola — otherwise called San Domingo, and in more 
recent times Hayti — they hunted the immense 
herds of cattle with which the wide-spreading sa- 
vannas of that magnificent island abounded, and 
also the wild hogs which existed there in great 
numbers. For the skins of the slaughtered ani- 
mals they obtained a ready market ; and the flesh 
both of beeves and swine they preserved by dry- 
ing and smoking them in sheds, called by the In- 
dians boucans. The flesh thus prepared was said 
to be boucanee, and hence the title which became 
so famous and so terrible to the Spaniards. 



1 86 Romance Without Fiction. 

The buccaneers were of different nations, but 
consisted largely of English ; men of desperate/ 
character and courage, who were rendered more 
reckless and ferocious by arrogant claims and 
proceedings on the part of the Spaniards. Rest- 
ing its pretensions upon the presumptuous Bull of 
Pope Alexander the Sixth, who assumed the right, 
as God's vicegerent upon earth, to dispose at his 
pleasure of all the islands and countries that might 
be discovered in the New World, Spain made an 
exclusive claim to those beautiful Western Isles 
as their mistress and owner. In asserting this 
claim the Spaniards sought to expel and get rid 
of the buccaneers by the same atrocious system of 
extermination which 'had been practiced toward 
the aboriginal Indians — murdering and destroying 
them wherever they met with them. This at- 
tempt recoiled with terrible effect upon them- 
selves. Treated as outlaws and pirates, the buc- 
caneers took up arms in self-defense, and formed 
among themselves a formidable and singular com- 
bination, possessing all things in common, and 
maintaining an inviolable fidelity toward each 
other, not always to be found in a more civilized 
condition of life. They became a terrible scourge 
to the Spaniards, spreading themselves over all 
the western seas, and capturing every Spanish ves- 
sel they could fall in with. They invaded and 
plundered the Spanish settlements in the islands 
and on the continent until their very name be- 
came a terror, and no Spaniard felt that he was 
safe in any part of the New World from the spirit 



The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 187 

of desperate enterprise which possessed these for- 
midable adventurers. 

The buccaneers had their settlements in various 
parts of the West Indies, and the traveler who en- 
ters the land-locked harbor of St. Thomas looks 
up from the deck of the vessel to a ruined tower, 
crowning the summit of one of the three pyram- 
idal hills on which the town is built, which is 
still known as the Buccaneers' Tower. But Port 
Royal became the grand rendezvous of these free- 
booters of the Caribbean Sea. After waging a 
sort of piratical war for some years with the Span- 
iards on their own independent footing, ' in the 
reign of the second Charles the buccaneers were 
formally licensed as privateers. Under Morgan, 
their distinguished chieftain, who was afterward 
made an admiral and a member of the Privy 
Council of Jamaica, they performed prodigies of 
valor. As Sir Henry Morgan, Knight, this reck- 
less leader of the buccaneer forces was appointed 
to succeed Lord Carlisle as governor of the island, 
and the colony was enriched by his followers to 
an enormous extent, especially by the sacking of 
Panama and Portobello, two of the wealthiest of 
the Spanish settlements in the New World. 

The wealth poured into Port Royal by the buc- 
caneers was incalculable. They intercepted all 
vessels that traversed those seas, and every Span- 
ish ship was a rich prize. If going to the ports of 
the Indies, they were found to be stored with the 
choicest productions and manufactures of the 
home country — the glass of St. Ildefonso, the 



1 88 Romance Without Fiction. 

silks and serges of Valencia, the porcelain of Al- 
cora, the platillas and cordage of Carthagena, the 
peculiar soap of Castile, the cutlery of Toledo, 
the fine wool of Spain's merino sheep, with the 
wine and oil and almonds and raisins produced by 
Spain in common with Italy and the Greek islands. 
If they were returning home to Europe, the Span- 
ish galleons were loaded with ingots of gold and 
silver. The disposal of these buccaneers' prizes, 
which were very numerous, made a golden har- 
vest for the wholesale merchant, while the riot 
and revelry of the sailors, spending with reckless 
prodigality their share of the plunder, enriched 
the retailers, and the traffic of this renowned mart 
laid the foundation of dowries for duchesses and 
endowments for earldoms. " If ever there was a 
hope anywhere," says one of Jamaica's most in- 
tellectual sons, Richard Hill, Esq., u of realizing 
the traveler's El Dorado, ' where the gold grew, 
and was to be had for the gathering ; where urchins 
played at cherry-pit with diamonds, and country 
wenches threaded rubies for necklaces instead of 
rowan-tree berries; where the pantiles were of pure 
gold, and the paving stones of virgin silver,' it was 
the Port Royal of the buccaneers." 

But as it rose in opulence Port Royal sunk into 
vice and wickedness. Rendered profligate by su- 
perabundance, and reckless by habitual violence, 
the buccaneers gathered around them all the worst 
elements of corruption and depravity. The inhab- 
itants, vitiated by boundless wealth and luxury, 
fell into a state of moral debasement not to be 



The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 1 89 

described, until vice and immorality of all kinds 
became rampant, as in the case of Sodom and 
Gomorrah, defying, while it provoked, the venge- 
ance of a just and holy God. At this time 
there was not perhaps so wealthy or so wicked a 
spot upon the face of the earth. Ungodliness in 
all its forms, crime in all its developments, abound- 
ed, when, as in the case of Sodom, the uplifted 
arm of vengeance fell upon it, blotting it, with its 
excess of wealth and wickedness, from the map 
of existence, and proclaiming to all generations, 
" Verily, there is a God that judgeth in the 
earth ! " 

It is the morning of a lovely day in June. The 
blue tropical sky is clear and cloudless, a scene 
of perfect beauty, reflected in the gently rolling 
waters of the Caribbean Sea. The glittering white 
sail, barely visible in the distance, marks here and 
there a ship bound to some western port to dis- 
charge the rich cargo with which she has crossed 
the Atlantic basin, or running before the trade- 
winds to pass through the Gulf of Mexico, where, 
although the wondrous attributes of the Gulf Stream 
are as yet not dreamed of, it is well known there are 
strong currents that help the mariner on his home- 
ward way. But the air is hot and sultry. Al- 
though the sun has nearly reached the meridian, 
no refreshing sea-breeze has through the forenoon 
rippled the slowly heaving surface of the ocean, 
whose waters, smooth and unbroken as a sheltered 
lake, seem to glisten fiercely as, like a silvered 
mirror, they throw back the fervid rays of the 



190 Romance Without Fiction. 

glowing orb which pours a burning heat upon 
every thing around. The leaves of the cocoa-nut 
palm, that wave to and fro with a gracefulness all 
their own when the cool, gentle breezes from the 
sea set them in motion, now droop in perfect still- 
ness, as if, under some powerful enchantment, 
they had been suddenly divested of all elasticity 
and life. The dogs, as they lazily creep into the 
very narrow strips of shadow cast from the houses 
beneath a nearly vertical sun, let their tongues 
hang from their mouths, as if they had not suffi- 
cient strength remaining to draw them in again. 
Goats, ordinarily so indifferent to the heat, repair 
to the grateful shade of any cocoa-nut tree or 
shrub that holds out the promise of protection 
from the scorching, glaring sunshine. Ladies in 
their dwellings, so planned as to admit of the 
most perfect -ventilation, and with every door and 
window thrown wide open, sink down into the 
coolest spot, enervated and overcome by the heat. 
The sterner sex, stretched out at full length in the 
grass hammocks of Indian manufacture, or loung- 
ing in easy-chairs beneath the shade of the piazza, 
gasp for air, or else seek relief and coolness in the 
large rummer of Sangaree, or the glass of punch 
skillfully compounded, as taste may suggest, from 
the well-replenished spirit decanter on the one 
hand, and on the other from the large jug of well- 
spiced and sugared limejuice beverage which is 
always placed upon the sideboard shortly before 
midday. But they seek for it in vain. Notwith- 
standing these potent remedies they pant for air, 



The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 191 

and feel the atmosphere to be intolerably oppress- 
ive. Even Quashie and Quamina, Jupiter and 
Venus, upon whom, as the slaves of the several 
establishments, devolve the activity of their re- 
spective households, and who seem to be gifted 
largely with the fabled properties of the salaman- 
der, feel the heat to be somewhat inconvenient, 
and exclaim, as they meet one another in the 
houses, stores, or streets, "Himbery hot, for 
true." All nature seems to languish in utter stag- 
nation. 

Worried out of life by the perverse, impractica- 
ble men he has had to deal with, and the difficul- 
ties of his position, the governor, the Earl of 
Inchiquin, has recently been consigned to the 
quiet of the grave, and the administration of the 
Government has consequently devolved upon the 
president of the council, Sir Francis Watson. 
This gentleman is seated under the shade of a 
wide-spreading piazza, in company with the rectoi 
of the town, and they agree together that it will 
be a very good thing to seek relief from the over- 
powering heat that oppresses them in the discus- 
sion of a glass of wormwood wine, as a whet to the 
appetite before dinner, and a pipe of tobacco. 
Little does the unfortunate president dream that 
the glass of wormwood wine he invites the rector 
to share with him will be the last taste of refresh- 
ment that is ever to pass his lips ; that the pipe, 
from which he is puffing away clouds of smoke 
with so much enjoyment, is the last that shall ever 
be lighted by him. Yet so it is. 



192 Romance Without Fiction. 

It is well we are not permitted to see far into 
our own future, or how much of life's enjoyment 
would be marred ! While the cloud rising up from 
the pipes of the two loungers is slowly curling 
around their heads, for there is no breath of wind 
to scatter and bear it away, and. the dial indicates 
that in twenty minutes the sun will be in his merid- 
ian glory, the smokers become sensible of a gen- 
tle, tremulous motion beneath their feet. Their 
smoking is arrested, and the pipes are involuntarily 
drawn from their mouths. Immediately a more 
violent shock takes place, accompanied wjth the 
hollow, rolling noise so familiar to those who in- 
habit those western isles, and resembling the 
sound of a heavy wagon passing over a roughly 
paved road. The pipes drop from their hands as 
they rise alarmed from their seats. " Sir," says the 
rector, " whatis that ? " More self-possessed than 
his companion, the president replies, " It is an 
earthquake : don't be afraid ; it will soon be over." 
But it is not destined to be so. Those are the 
last words to fall from his lips. He is never seen 
again ; never heard of more in connection with the 
earth. The rector, as soon as these words are 
spoken, and he realizes the idea of the calamity 
that is coming upon them, rushes at once out of the 
piazza, and makes his way toward an open space 
near Morgan's Fort, to escape from the danger 
of the falling houses, which he now sees crumbling 
into heaps of ruin in all directions ; for a third 
shock has succeeded, far more violent than the 
preceding ones, shaking down buildings of all 



The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 193 

sizes, and burying multitudes, crushed out of all 
semblance to humanity,, under the crumbling mass- 
es of stones and bricks and timber and rubbish 
which have fallen upon them. 

Earthquakes are among the most .appalling of 
those destructive visitations to which men are 
liable ; they come so suddenly, and are ofttimes 
so terribly fraught with wide-spread ruin and death, 
from which there is no possibility of escape. No 
sign, no sound, heralds the approach of the dread 
enemy. The earth is reeling ; houses and build- 
ings all around are tottering and tumbling, and 
hundreds of souls are halfway to eternity before 
they realize the idea that the loud rumbling which 
fills the air, and which they have mistaken for 
that of a passing vehicle, is the fatal bellowing of 
the earthquake. More than once has the writer 
had his pen arrested at his desk, or been suddenly 
wakened up in the darkness and silence of the night, 
by the ominous sound, to perceive the ground trem- 
bling or waving to and fro, the windows and the 
furniture rattling, and the house shaking or un- 
dulating as if some giant grasp were laid upon it ; 
and to feel the irresistible conviction rushing 
upon his mind that danger, great and terrible, 
is impending close at hand, which, before a 
place of safety can be reached, may close in, 
bringing upon all around inevitable ruin and 
death. 

So it is with the inhabitants of the devoted 
town. In a moment the destruction, unthought-of, 
unavoidable, comes ! First, a slight trembling of 



194 Romance Without Fiction. 

the earth for a few seconds, which becomes more 
and more violent, until every thing is shuddering 
and reeling. A load, mysterious roar, seeming to 
proceed from the distant mountains, is heard, roll- 
ing onward, paralyzing the energies of all. And, 
before many have realized the idea that it is the 
earthquake, the greatest part of the town has 
crumbled and fallen. The receptacle of so much 
wealth; the scene of such abounding wickedness, 
sinks into the sea, and thousands of the inhabit- 
ants instantly disappear, literally swallowed up. 
The wharves, piled high with spoil and merchan- 
dise, are engulfed instantaneously ; and water 
stands some fathoms deep where, a few moments 
ago, the crowded streets displayed the glittering 
treasures of Mexico and Peru. 

The rector, leaving his boon companion, the 
president, to his fate, gains the open space near 
at hand, and is saved. But what appalling scenes 
present themselves to his view ! The ground is 
rolling and trembling under his feet, but it does 
not sink from beneath him. Close at hand, how- 
ever, he sees the earth open, and swallow up a 
multitude of people of all classes, who, terror- 
stricken, are rushing hither and thither, not know- 
ing where to fly for safety. Houses, stores, and 
wharves, the Government buildings and barracks, 
all sink before his eyes, far down into the deep ; 
and the sea, mounting in upon them in a vast tidal 
wave, comes rushing with stupendous sweep over 
the fortifications. The church and the large burial- 
ground disappear in a moment beneath the waters, 



The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers, 195 

while coffins and carcasses, in all stages of decay, 
which have been deposited in the loose sand, float 
to the surface, adding to the ghastliness and terror 
of the scene. 

Shock follows shock in rapid succession. The 
air is filled with screams of anguish and cries of 
horror, mingled with, and partly drowned by, the 
rush of waters, and the crash of thousands of fall- 
ing edifices. Large fissures open in the earth, and 
then, by other shocks, are closed again, burying 
some persons alive altogether, leaving others, 
maimed and crushed and partially buried, with 
their heads and limbs appearing above ground for 
dogs and birds of prey to feed upon. In the 
openings of the earth the houses and the inhabit- 
ants sink down together ; and some of the latter 
are driven up again by the rushing in of the sea, 
and marvelously escape with life. This is the 
case with a French gentleman, named Lewis 
Galdy, who is swallowed up — engulfed with house 
and property — by one shock of the earthquake, 
and, by another shock that quickly follows, is 
thrown up, alive and uninjured, into the sea. 
Being rescued by a boat, he lives for many years 
to adore the gracious Providence that so wonder- 
fully delivered him from a sudden and painful 
death,* The sea, as well as the land, feels the 

* This gentleman, after the catastrophe, became a member 
of the local legislature, and lived for forty-four years after his 
wonderful deliverance. Dying at the advanced age of eighty, 
he was. buried at Green Bay, opposite to Port Royal, at a 
short distance from the Apostles' Battery. In 1844 the writer 

13 



196 Romance Without Fiction. 

throes of this great convulsion of nature ; and the 
water, which, in the absence of every breath of wind, 
has been all the morning smooth as glass, becomes 
suddenly and violently agitated, as if moved by a 
mighty storm. Thrown up into vast billows, which 
rise and fall with unaccountable violence, it drives 
many ships, with broken cables, from their anchor- 
age. The " Swan " frigate, with all her heavy 
guns, borne over the tops of the sunken houses, is 
left high and dry upon the land, in the midst of the 
ruins, affording a providential refuge to many un- 
fortunate persons who, saved themselves where 
such a multitude have perished, have been stripped 

visited the spot, and found the tomb, built of brick and covered 
with a slab of white marble, on which was sculptured a shield 
bearing a cock, two stars, and a crescent, with the motto, 
" Dieu sur tout."- Underneath was the following inscription, 
distinctly legible : rl Here lies the body of Lewis Galdy, Es- 
quire, who departed this life at Port Royal the 22d December, 
1736, aged eighty years. He was born at Montpellier, in 
France, but left that country for his religion and came to 
settle in this island, where he was swallowed up in the great 
earthquake in the year 1692, and, by the providence of God, 
was, by another shock, thrown into the sea, and miraculous- 
ly saved by swimming until a boat took him up. He lived 
many years after in great reputation, beloved by all who knew 
him, and much lamented at his death." Fragments of the 
marble had been chipped from the slab by visitors. And 
when the writer paid a second visit to the burial-place with 
his two daughters in April, 1867, he was greatly surprised to 
find that the tomb had been entirely demolished, and only 
just enough of the brick foundation remained to mark the 
spot, and show the size and shape of the structure that had 
covered Mr. Galdy's remains. 



The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. [97 

in a moment of all they possessed, and left without 
even a shelter. 

So wide- spread is the desolation that only about 
two hundred houses, with one fort, are left, in a 
shattered and dismantled condition, where in the 
morning of that day stood in its pride the wealthy, 
gay, and busy city. Together with its enormous 
piles of precious merchandise, ingots of gold, bar- 
rels of pistoles and doubloons, and tierces of sil- 
ver — common almost as the sand in the streets — 
the city that trafficked in violence has sunk and 
disappeared in the depths of the sea, leaving the 
impoverished survivors to take up the lamentation 
for her that was uttered over ancient Tyre : " How 
art thou destroyed, that wast inhabited of seafaring 
men, the renowned city, which wast strong in the 
sea, she and her inhabitants, which cause their 
terror to be on all that haunt it ! " Ezek. xxvi, 17. 
The ruins are still visible from the surface of the 
waters under which they lie, and buoys, placed 
above, still mark the spot, and admonish mariners 
that they may not drop their anchors there, lest 
they become inextricably entangled amid the 
stones and brickwork and massive timbers en- 
gulfed and swallowed up by the greedy sea. 

Terrible has been the destruction of human life. 
Fifteen hundred persons of note, including the 
president administering the Government, members 
of both branches of the Legislature, officers of the 
Government, judges, merchants — nearly all the 
principal men of the island — by one fell swoop 
have disappeared, with thousands upon thousands 



198 Romance Without Fiction. 

of sailors, soldiers, artisans, and slaves. All in 
the morning of that bright sunny day were full of 
lusty life, little thinking of death or danger. The 
setting sun shines upon the waves, where, far 
down below, they lie slumbering in a watery 
grave. Not a public building remains, and all 
the public records and official papers of the col- 
ony have perished with those who had the care 
of -them. 

Nor is the devastation confined to the principal 
city of the island. There, owing to the peculiar 
position and formation of the place, the ruin and 
destruction have been greatest ; but all over the 
island the earthquake has left the sad traces of its 
terrible power. The rocks on the opposite shore, 
near to Port Henderson and the Apostles' Bat- 
tery, have been rent into enormous caverns and 
fissures, from whence sulphurous steam is seen to 
gush for several days. The town of St. Jago de la 
Vega, founded, like Port Royal, by the Spaniards, 
is well-nigh destroyed. The well-compacted 
houses, built by Spanish skill, with a view to 
earthquake visitations, are split and rent in all 
directions ; while those ,of more recent and less 
careful structure have crumbled into heaps, bury- 
ing, in many instances, the unfortunate inhabitants 
beneath them. So it is all over the island. The 
buildings on the plantations are shaken down, and 
hundreds, crushed under the ruins of their habita- 
tions, have found their graves in their own dwell- 
ings. The whole face of the country is changed, 
stupendous mountains being upheaved from their 



The Rendezvous of the Buccaneers. 199 

foundations, and tossed about in wild confusion. 
There is scarely a mountain in the island that has 
not been altered in its outline, while the rivers, 
too, have changed their courses. On the princi- 
pal road through the island two mountains have 
been lifted up and thrown together, stopping up 
the bed of the river with huge masses of disjoint- 
ed rock, until the waters, collected in great force, 
and raised to an overwhelming height, burst their 
adamantine barrier, and, bearing all before them, 
force open a new passage for themselves, increas- 
ing, in their destructive sweep, the horrors which 
already abound. 

These are but the beginning of sorrows to the 
guilty land. One of the historians of the West 
Indies says, " The tremendous convulsions were 
repeated with little intermission, though with de- 
creasing ^violence, for the space of three weeks, 
and eve#y fissure in the rocks, every cleft in the 
cracked and parching earth, was steaming with 
sulphurous fumes. The air reeked with noxious 
miasmata, and the sea exhaled an offensive, putrid 
vapor, which destroyed a great proportion of those 
destitute and wretched beings whom the convul- 
sion itself had spared. No fewer than three thou- 
sand were the victims of this dreadful endemic, 
and the few surviving inhabitants of Port Royal, 
who sought a refuge in temporary huts where 
Kingston now stands, were yet within reach of 
the contagious cause, for the dead bodies still 
floated in shoals about the harbor, and added 
horror to a scene which the pencil could not de- 



200 Romance Without Fiction. 

lineate, much less the pen describe. The insup- 
portable heat of a tropical midsummer was not for 
many weeks refreshed even by a partial breath of 
air ; the sky blazed with irresistible fierceness, 
swarms of mosquitoes clouded the atmosphere, 
while the lively beauty of the mountain forests 
suddenly vanished, and the fresh verdure of the 
lowland scenery was changed to the russet gray of 
a northern winter. The cane fields were disfig- 
ured by masses of fallen rock, and presented to 
the eye a barren wilderness, parched and fur- 
rowed. Thus vanished the glory of the most 
flourishing emporium of the New World by a suc- 
cession of tremendous judgments, resembling those 
visitations of an offended Deity on some cities in 
the Old World, where an iniquitous race was over- 
whelmed in sudden and unexpected ruin. Large 
sums of money, arising from the treasures of un- 
known or lost proprietors, fell into the hands of 
many individuals, and among others into those of 
Sir William Preston, who was charged by the As- 
sembly, ten years afterward, with having appro- 
priated a considerable share to his own use. One 
loss was irrecoverable, and is still severely felt: 
that of all the official papers and public records of 
the island, whose history is thereby rendered so 
obscure and incomplete. " 



The Groundless Panic. 201 



8 



X. 

The Groundless Panic. 

Fear on guilt attends, and deeds of darkness : 
The Tirmous breast ne^r knows it. — Hovaed. 

Desponding fear, of feeble fancies full. 

Weak and unmanly, loosens every power. — Thomson 

,T T A L F W AY between Hayti and Jamaica the 
voyager on the Caribbean Sea first catches 
a glimpse of the blue mountains of " the 
land of springs," (for so Jamaica was called by 
its aboriginal inhabitants,) the towering hills of 
both islands being visible at the same time from 
the deck of the ship when the weather is clear. 
But the first land which he approaches is Morant 
Point, forming the south-eastern extremity of Ja- 
maica, and stretching out a considerable distance 
into the sea, so low and flat as not to be seen from 
a vessel's deck until she is close upon it. Morant 
Point has been exceedingly fatal to ships, many a 
gallant bark having struck upon this treacherous 
tongue of land before the slow progress of civil- 
ization, and the still slower growth of public spirit 
in the British colonies of the West Indies, led to 
the erection of a light-house, whose beacon flame, 
gleaming over the dark waters, now admonishes 
the mariner of the danger upon which he might 



202 Romance Without Fiction. 

have rushed. This eastern extremity of the island 
is comprised in the parish of St. Thomas, Jamaica 
being divided into parishes, several of which are 
almost equal in geographical extent to some En- 
glish counties. This part of the island offers to 
the admiring traveler many scenes of surpassing 
beauty. Looking southward from the low range 
of hills at the eastern commencement of that vast 
chain of mountains running right through the cen- 
ter of the island from east to west, intersected 
by thousands of magnificent ravines and fruitful 
valleys, the eye is greeted by a landscape of 
Eden-like grandeur and loveliness. Inclosed be- 
tween two ranges of rising lands, in a fork of the 
mountains open to the sea at one end, and termi- 
nating almost in a point at the other, lies what is 
called the Plantain-Garden-River District, nine 
or ten miles in' length and several in width. It is 
the most fertile spot in one of the most fertile 
countries in the world, and is divided into a num- 
ber of sugar plantations, not surpassed in value by 
any in the colony, each of considerable extent, 
and possessing a soil of inexhaustible richness, 
which, with little or no aid of agricultural chem- 
istry, produces crop after crop from the same 
roots through a long succession of years, without 
any diminution either in quality or quantity. The 
lovely valley is seen covered with luxuriant cane- 
fields, and studded at distant intervals with mass- 
ive and costly sugar works, and the commodious 
mansions of the proprietors, surrounded by the 
dwellings of various grades of estate officials, and, 



The Groundless Panic, 203 

farther off, with the numerous cottages of the 
peasantry. 

Toward the other extremity of this large parish 
the traveler gazes upon a scene of* equal but some- 
what different grandeur. It is the Blue Mountain 
Valley. By the side of a broad but shallow river, 
whose usually gentle stream is swollen, in the 
rainy seasons, to a fierce, turgid, tumbling, impassa- 
ble torrent, the eye rests upon a plain dotted with 
sugar plantations, and rich with all the varied and 
luxuriant growth of the tropics. The upper end 
of the valley is closed in by the glorious mount- 
ain range, rising abruptly, and in such proximity 
as to produce upon the mind an almost overwhelm- 
ing sense of awe, out of the midst of which the 
Blue Mountain peak — the highest point of land in 
the island — is seen, a sublime and stupendous 
object, lifting its head, often in cloudless grandeur, 
and always fresh and verdant, nearly eight thou- 
sand feet above the level of the sea. But, amid 
all this loveliness, the curse which sin introduced 
into the original Eden makes its influence felt. 
Beautiful, but proverbially unhealthy, the parish 
of St. Thomas in the East has been, in a most 
emphatic sense, the grave of Europeans. Few 
parts of the western coast of Africa have been more 
hostile to European health and life. The town of 
Morant Bay, occupying a picturesque situation, 
elevated considerably above the sea near the 
mouth of the Blue Mountain Valley, has been long 
noted for its unhealthiness. The graves of a large 
number of Christian missionaries, and numerous 



204 Romance Without Fiction. 

members of missionaries' families, both in the 
church-yard and in the unpretending burial 
ground of the Methodists, bear silent but eloquent 
witness to the deadly character of the maladies 
which frequently prevail there. 

Morant Bay is the capital town of the parish, 
though scarcely equal in size and importance to 
many an English village. Here stands the church, 
which in the olden time, ere missionaries came, 
(when persons of African birth, or of African de- 
scent, were regarded as having no souls, and form- 
ing no part of the pastoral charge of the clergy,) 
was the only place of worship in a parish contain- 
ing some thirty thousand souls! It is different 
now ; for several other Episcopal places of worship 
now exist in that parish, and also a goodly number 
of Methodist chapels. At some little distance, 
somewhat back from the main street, stands the 
Wesleyan chapel, its proportions considerably ex- 
tended, and its appearance greatly improved, since 
the advent of freedom. The old humble-looking 
edifice, near to which stood the mission house, was 
erected under the auspices of the good and unself- 
ish Dr. Coke, whose private fortune, doubtless, 
contributed largely to the establishment of the 
mission here which, during more than half a 
century, has brought life and salvation to thousands 
of the benighted race of Africa. 

At the beginning of the present century some 
colored local preachers belonging to the Meth- 
odist Society in Kingston found their way to 
Morant Bay, and gave to the swarming multitudes 



The Groundless Panic. 205 

of the neighborhood a first opportunity of hear- 
ing the truths of the Gospel. For, even when 
service was held in the parish church, (which was 
only when it suited the convenience of the rector,) 
its dooKs opened only to those who could boast 
of a white complexion. Divine power attended 
the word preached by these humble messengers 
of truth, and many, both slave and free, were 
brought into the liberty of the children of God. 
Messrs. Fish and Campbell, the missionaries in the 
city, soon visited the neighborhood, and one of the 
most fruitful of all our West India stations was es- 
tablished. In the face of such reproach, of vio- 
lence and persecution, the foundations of a pros- 
perous Church was laid. But the enemies of the 
truth did not rest satisfied with mobbing preachers, 
annoying and insulting those who assembled to 
worship, and subjecting praying slaves to the 
gyves and the cart-whip. To Morant Bay, and the 
magistrates and planters of St. Thomas in the 
East, belongs the unenviable distinction of origin- 
ating that system of legal persecution of Christian 
teachers, and statuary opposition to the religious 
instruction of the down-trodden negro, that dis- 
honored Jamaica from the opening of the present 
century until religious liberty was finally secured 
to all classes in the British West Indies, by the 
enactment of the imperial legislature which broke 
the power of the oppressor, and gave back the 
rights of humanity to the slave. To the influence 
and representations of the planters and magistrates 
of this parish was it owing that the island legis- 



206 Romance Without Fiction. 

lature was induced to pass the first of a series 
of oppressive laws which, through a succession of 
years, caused the imprisonment of many mission- 
aries, and which will remain for generations yet 
to come dark blots upon the statute book of the 
colony. 

The incidents of our tale carry us back to an 
early date in the present century, when the preach- 
ing of the Methodists is as yet somewhat of a 
novelty in this part of the island, and the members 
of the Society are comparatively few. A death 
has taken place on one of the plantations — no ex- 
traordinary occurrence that ! It is a female slave, 
worn out by excessive toil and hardship, who has 
passed away to an unbroken rest : for she is one 
of the earliest fruits of missionary labor at this 
station. Having sought and realized the hallow- 
ing and elevating joys of true religion, through 
faith in the blood of the Lamb, she has departed 
in peace to join the blood-washed multitude be- 
fore the throne, who " hunger no more, neither 
thirst any more, neither doth the sun light on 
them, nor any heat." Her Christian course has 
been a brief one, (for but recently she first heard 
of God, and Christ, and salvation, and heaven,) 
but how great and blessed the change which has 
crowned it ! — from the blood-stained plantation to 
the celestial paradise ; from a wretched, unfur- 
nished hovel, to the mansions of light and glory ; 
from the toil-worn and bleeding slave-gang to the 
glorious company of angels, and the spirits of the 
just made perfect; from the horrible discipline of 



The Groundless Panic. 207 

the bilboes, and the cat, and the cart-whip, and 
the wasting, weary toil of the cane-field, to that 
" fullness of joy," and those " pleasures for ever- 
more," which are at the right hand of God ! Who 
can wonder that the Gospel should have proved 
thrice welcome, both in our own colonies, and in 
the Southern States of America, to the desponding 
and heart-crushed captive? 

A slave can own nothing— not even his own 
body, or the worthless rags that cover it. Body, 
soul, time, labor, clothing — all he is, and all he 
has — belong to his owner.. In yonder poor hut, 
which she inhabits no longer, there is the coarse 
box or trunk, wherein the departed negress was 
accustomed to keep the few scanty articles of ap- 
parel she used to wear — the cherished Sunday 
suit, very humble, but donned only when the cov- 
eted opportunity came, which was but seldom, of 
bending her steps to the house of God. This box 
and its contents fall now into the possession of 
plantation officials, probably to furnish the ward- 
robe of some unhappy creature just landed from 
the slave-ship, after a miserable and soul-sicken- 
ing voyage from the coast of her native Africa, to 
fill up the vacancy on the estate which death, with 
so little regard to the interests of the great man 
who owns the plantation and its slaves, has re- 
cently made. Along with the rest of the few arti- 
cles in the box there is found, very carefully 
folded in a fragment of old cloth, and put away 
in a corner, a small oblong piece of paper, upon 
which, in addition to several hieroglyphics, there 



2o8 Romance Without Fiction. 

is printed in fair legible type a text of Scripture : 
" The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and 
the violent take it by force." The book-keeper, 
one of the officials, (so called, it has been said, 
" because he never sees a book,") greatly sur- 
prised, takes the mysterious paper in hand and 
examines it in ail possible ways — back and front, 
right side up and upside down — but he is alto- 
gether at a loss to understand what it means. He 
is just scholar enough to spell out the plain words; 
but there are other printed characters — " Matt, 
xi, 12" — of which he can make nothing at all, 
and as to the few marks, evidently made with pen 
and ink, on different parts of the paper, they are 
altogether a mystery that he is unable to fathom. 
But he has a dreamy apprehension that there must 
be in all this something very wrong and very ter- 
rible. 

The scrap of paper is taken and shown to other 
white officials of the estate, including book-keep- 
ers, head mason, head carpenter, etc., etc. But 
beyond reading the printed words they can make 
nothing of it, until one, a little more clever than 
his fellows, succeeds in spelling out in part of the 
writing the name of the deceased slave. This is 
startling, and only deepens the mystery, for where 
could she have got that piece of paper with the 
threatening language printed on it ? and who could 
have written her name upon it? It is evident 
there is something very wrong about the matter, 
and with all haste the suspected document is car- 
ried to the overseer of the estate. The "busha" 



The Groundless Panic, 209 

— the negro contraction of overseer- — takes the pa- 
per from his subordinates after hearing the alarm- 
ing details of its discovery. He is an older hand 
than they, and he has heard more about the sedi- 
tious preaching of the missionaries, and is more 
familiar with rumors of conspiracy and insurrec- 
tion than his subordinates, most of whom, adven- 
turers from Scotland, have not themselves very 
long landed. The more he looks at the paper, 
and at the inexplicable words and marks it bears, 
and the more he thinks of the strange circum- 
stances in which it has been brought to light, the 
more excited and alarmed he becomes, until at 
length he arrives at the satisfactory conclusion 
that he has in his hands a clue to one of those 
dire conspiracies which have so often horrified 
the imaginations of the planters ; for there is 
manifestly, he thinks, some dark and terrible 
meaning wrapped up in those significant words 
about the violent taking something by force. 

Inflated not a little with a flattering idea of the 
discovery he has made — his fancy meantime run- 
ning riot in scenes of insurrection, burning plan- 
tations, militia marchings and countermarchings, 
slaughtered negroes, courts-martial, and military 
executions, and not without some glimmering an- 
ticipations of honor, patronage, and profit which 
are to reward his own meritorious sagacity and 
zeal — the overseer gives orders for his horse to be 
saddled with all possible haste, and, without the 
loss of a minute, gallops off with the cabalistic 
paper to the residence of the cnstos. (Such is the 



210 Romance Without Fiction. 

title of the chief magistrate of a Jamaica parish, 
something analogous to that of a lord-lieutenant 
of an English county.) The hour is unseasonable, 
(for by this time the day is far advanced,) and it is 
a question whether the custos will see him, or in- 
deed whether " his honor" is likely to be in a 
state fit for the transaction of public business. 
In truth, after imbibing all the punch and other 
fluids which they think necessary to supply the 
rapid exhaustion of physical power within the 
tropics, some of these, dignitaries are not usually 
quite up to the mark for important official duty in 
the latter part of the day. But here is a matter 
admitting of no delay. Fit or unfit, sober or oth- 
erwise, the -great man must soon be seen. The 
name of the overseer is accordingly sent in, with 
an intimation that business of the greatest ur- 
gency, as connected with the public safety, brings 
him hither. To the request for an interview, so 
enforced, there can be no denial, and the visitor 
is shown into the great man's presence. The 
strange paper is produced, and the circumstances 
of its discovery are fully explained to the legal 
functionary, who looks very grave, for he, like the 
overseer, can make nothing of it, except that some 
awful conspiracy is on foot, for the tracing and 
suppression of which prompt and decisive meas- 
ures must be taken. 

Having, with the aid of the overseer's logic, got 
this conviction firmly settled in his mind, the cus- 
tos concludes there is not a moment to be lost. 
Special messengers are at once dispatched to 



The Groundless Panic, 211 

summon all the magistrates in the vicinity to 
meet him at an early hour next day on very spe- 
cial business, while other messengers are sent off 
by his orders (for he acts in a twofold capacity) to 
assemble as large a force of the militia as can be 
brought together at the court-house during the 
night or early in the morning, all fully armed and 
ascoutered for whatever service maybe demanded 
at their hands. From one plantation to another 
the alarm is sounded, and the peaceable inhab- 
itants of the town are startled at all hours through- 
out the night by the noisy gathering of those who 
compose this force, and of their attendants, who 
come rattling through the generally quiet streets 
as if they were followed by a pursuing army. 
Soon sleep is banished from all eyes by rumors of 
a most bloody insurrection that has broken out 
already, or is on the point of breaking out among 
the servile population. None can tell where the 
danger lies, whether it is in some distant part of 
the island, or close at their own doors ; but that 
there is danger, very great and imminent, none 
can doubt, or wherefore all this stir ? The dawn 
brings no relief, but rather adds to the confusion 
and alarm, for more and more of the planters 
(who chiefly compose the militia force) from all 
the estates within a distance of some miles are 
seen, with every indication of haste, hurrying 
through the town, with their soldierly equipments ; 
and at an unusually early hour the magistrates 
from different parts of the parish, followed by 

negro boys riding upon mules, are also seen driv- 

14 



212 Romance Without Fiction. 

ing with haste in the direction of the court-house. 
Every thing seems to imply that a crisis is at hand, 
which the authorities regard as one of the greatest 
importance. 

A considerable number of the learned magis- 
trates of the parish, with the custos at their head, 
are soon in profound deliberation. What serves 
to increase the alarm among the uninitiated is the 
fact that they carry on their deliberations with 
closed doors. All approach, except for the priv- 
ileged, is carefully forbidden by armed sentinels. 
In this conclave of parish magnates there is great 
excitement. All are anxious to be put in posses- 
sion of the particulars of the horrid conspiracy 
which has been discovered. When a sufficient 
number of the dignitaries have assembled the 
business is opened. The important paper is pro- 
duced, and the overseer, not a little elevated in 
his own estimation, is called upon to state all the 
circumstances which led to the discovery of the 
seditious document before the meeting, for that is 
the character which by general consent has been 
fixed upon the ticket. Nothing loth, he addresses 
himself to the task. Their worships are duly in- 
formed, with all minuteness of detail, when and 
where and how the paper was found. Next are 
rehearsed the opinions and surmises which have 
been entertained by the different' parties con- 
cerned in making the discovery. To all this is 
added the statement, which has been gleaned up by 
some means, that the deceased slave, whose name 
is on the paper, had been for some time in the 



The Groundless Panic. 213 

habit of going to the Methodist chapel at the Bay, 
and that since she went thither a great change 
had taken place in her habits and appearance. 
In fact she became much more reserved and 
thoughtful than she used to be, as if she had 
something more than usual upon her mind. She 
now took no part, as she had been wont to do, in 
the dances and revels which the other slaves on 
the estate got up occasionally. All this, of course, 
is regarded as matter of grave suspicion, and, after 
long consultation, there is but one opinion among 
that sagacious and learned body of magistrates, 
that it is a case pregnant with great danger to the 
country, and demanding most prompt and careful 
inquiry. 

After several long hours spent in discussion, (so 
earnest and exhausting as to demand a very liberal 
expenditure of wine, punch, or brandy,) it is re- 
solved to send out all the militia that can be 
spared, a sufficient force being kept in reserve for 
the defense of the town ; though no one can say 
what possible danger threatens it, or whence any 
is likely to proceed. Further, that all the huts, 
etc., belonging to the estates in the neighborhood 
where the slave has died, under such suspicion, 
should be at once rigorously searched. The 
question has been long and earnestly debated, 
whether a dispatch shall be sent immediately to 
the governor, calling upon him to proclaim martial 
law in the parish, or, if he think it better, through- 
out the island ; but it is determined that the 
further consideration of that proposal shall be 



214 Romance Without Fiction. 

postponed until the result of the proposed search 
of the huts, etc., shall have been ascertained. 
The necessary orders are now issued, and it is 
with no little pride, and with a very large degree 
of bustling importance, that the militia officers 
muster and parade the men under their command 
in several detachments, before marching forth on 
the grand expedition assigned to them. Still the 
cause of these various movements remains to all, 
except the magistrates and the militia officers, a 
profound secret ; but the towns-people are addi- 
tionally terrified when they hear that a large quan- 
tity of ammunition has been served out to the 
soldiers, and when they see one body after 
another of these heroes marching away by different 
routes into the country, but mostly in one certain 
direction. Business is entirely suspended, and a 
vague feeling of apprehension is prevalent in all 
minds. 

Meanwhile the detachments of the militia pro- 
ceed to their destination, and, to the great terror 
of the several slave-gangs, present themselves in 
all their red-coat glory on the different plantations. 
With no excessive affectation of gentleness or 
delicacy, (for what need is there of gentleness or 
delicacy toward negro slaves ?) they execute their 
commission, and every house is subjected to an 
unceremonious search. If a door is fastened, it is 
not a difficult matter to break it down ; and if a 
box should chance to have a lock, or other fasten- 
ing, it is easily smashed with the butt-end of a 
musket. There is very little to examine, indeedj 



The Groundless Panie. 215 

when by this summary process the boxes have been 
made to give their contents to the light ; but pres- 
ently there is much excitement among the busy 
detectives, for, sure enough, in several of the boxes 
are found scraps of paper, not unlike that above 
described, which, they now learn from their offi- 
cers, are the very objects of the search. Each 
one, carefully deposited among the few articles of 
wearing apparel in the box or trunk, is found to be 
identical with that seditious document which has 
created such a sensation. ' From one hut to 
another the soldiers proceed, now wrought up to 
an almost overpowering excess of earnestness and 
zeal, and their exertions are rewarded by the dis- 
covery of more than a hundred of these papers, 
the owners of which, one and all, are taken into 
custody, their arms fastened behind them. From 
them the important information is obtained that 
all these papers have been given out by the Meth- 
odist preacher. There they are, all bearing the 
same mysterious and threatening words, " The 
kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the 
violent take it by force," having the same written 
marks ; the only difference being, that each paper 
bears the name of the person in whose possession 
it was found. "What can possibly be more 
plain ? " say some. " Here is ample and unques- 
tionable evidence of a wide-spreading conspiracy 
among the slaves, at the head of which is the 
Methodist preacher ! We have always accused 
these parsons of seditious preaching, and here we 
have proof of the fact — proof strong as holy writ ! " 



216 Romance Without Fiction. 

Who can describe the triumph with which these 
military gentlemen exult over the magnificent 
success which has crowned their expedition ? 
And who shall picture the excitement of the towns- 
people ? — not, however, unmixed with a sense of 
relief, when they behold scores of wretched cap- 
tives, securely bound, marched into the town sur- 
rounded by fixed bayonets ; all of whom, they are 
assured, are the leaders of the insurrection which 
was on the point of breaking out. And now 
rumor, with her hundred tongues, is busy. Through 
the town and through the parish the intelligence 
swiftly spreads that a most sanguinary revolt has 
been nipped in the bud. And soon, through the 
medium of the newspapers, the public, from the 
east to the west of the island, are startled by the 
intelligence from St. Thomas in the East that 
seditious meetings have been held in the houses 
of the slaves at midnight ; that the negroes have 
been corrupted, and led to rebellion, by the 
preaching of the Methodists ; that a large quanti- 
ty of seditious, papers have been seized ; and that, 
by the prompt and courageous conduct of the 
custos and the magistrates, and the bravery of the 
militia, " beyond all praise/' the island has been 
rescued from the horrors of a servile war. 

It is deemed advisable by the authorities to 
place a strong militia force upon the several plan- 
tations where these papers have been seized to 
prevent the rising of the slaves, who, poor crea- 
tures ! have no more thought of any insurrec- 
tionary movement than of attempting to uproot 



The Groundless Panic. 217 

the Blue Mountains, to which they are accus- 
tomed daily to lift their eyes. They take alarm, 
however, and wonder what all this commotion 
is about, and what is the meaning of the rude and 
unceremonious searching of their lowly dwellings. 
And they are still more amazed when they see a 
large number of their fellows, whose houses and 
boxes have been broken open, tied and marched 
off to the Bay. The venerable magistrates have 
been very busy in consequence of the important 
discoveries made, of which a full account has been 
sent off by an express messenger to the king's 
house, at the seat of Government. A few days 
have elapsed, and all the justices of the parish as- 
sembled in special session; yea, and some from 
the adjoining parishes, who, terror-struck by the 
reports in circulation, have come as spectators of 
the proceedings. Not a few of them loom very 
large in the proud adorning of military costume, 
being holders both of civil and military commis- 
sions ; and such an opportunity of showing off in 
the blazonry of war is not to pass unimproved. 
Some time is spent in preliminary discussion, until, 
all things being ready, a party is dispatched to 
request the attendance of the Methodist preacher 
at the court-house, strong enough, by the way, to 
insure a compliance with the magisterial mandate 
should there be*any difficulty in obeying it. But 
no compulsion is required : Methodist preachers 
being in the habit of paying due respect to " the 
powers that be," as a part of their religion. The 
missionary, who, like all others, has been studi- 



218 Romance Without Fiction. 

ously kept in the dark as to the cause of the un- 
usual stir, begins, however, as he prepares to ac- 
company the military messengers, to ask himself 
what he can have to do with these strange proceed- 
ings, and what sort of service the magistrates 
can wish him to render on the occasion of a 
conspiracy, real or fancied. It never enters into 
his mind that any charge can be made against 
himself. Ready for any lawful service to which 
he may be put, with willing step he wends his way 
to the court-house, and is at once introduced into 
the presence of the " powers " awaiting his arrival. 
On looking around he observes that a deep gravity 
marks the countenance of almost every one ; and it 
is clear that his appearance, though fully expected, 
has caused no little sensation. It is no small trial 
to his modesty when he finds himself the observed 
of all observers, and he soon perceives that it is 
any thing but a friendly gaze which is directed 
toward him by the custos and his associates. A 
dark frown meets his eye in one direction, and the 
scowl of a fierce malignity in another ; while the 
conviction forces itself upon him that, whatever 
may be the purpose, it is no amicable interview 
with these legal dignitaries to which he has been 
summoned. 

He is not left long in doubt. After some whis- 
pering with his brother magistrates, the custos pro- 
ceeds, with a good deal of appropriate circumlo- 
cution, to open the business, and explain to the 
wondering missionary that a discovery has been 
made of a wide-spread conspiracy against the 



The Groundless Panic, 219 

peace and welfare of the colony ; that a search 
has been instituted which has resulted in the seiz- 
ure of a large quantity of papers of evil character 
and tendency ; that many slaves implicated in the 
conspiracy, in whose possession these papers were 
found concealed, have been arrested, and are now 
in custody ; and that, by the confession of many 
of these prisoners, the whole conspiracy has been 
traced to him as its mainspring and source, inas- 
much as they had received the papers from his 
hands ; and that he must consider himself now in 
custody on the very serious charge of rebellion. 
At first, as the speaker proceeds, charging home 
these serious offenses upon himself, the missionary 
is astounded and overwhelmed by the accusation, 
thinking it quite possible, from the spirit of invet- 
erate hostility with which Christian efforts have 
been uniformly met by the planters in this neigh- 
borhood, that some wicked plot has been devised 
against him. But the tediousness of the custos, 
who has made the most of this occasion to display 
his stumbling and stammering eloquence, has been 
so far favorable to the accused that it has given 
him time to recover self-possession, and long be- 
fore the elaborate and rambling address of the 
great man has reached its finale the guiltless 
preacher is ready to confront the accusation and 
his accusers. Being called upon to say what reply 
he has to make to this grave charge, he, first of all, 
requests permission to look at some of those papers 
of seditious character and tendency which he is 
accused of having circulated. A lengthy consul- 



220 Romance Without Fiction. 

tation now takes place among the officials on the 
bench, and it appears there is no little difficulty 
about the matter. For first one of these gentle- 
men is called, and then another, from different 
parts of the room, to the consultation, the whole 
of which is carried on in a low tone, so that noth- 
ing may reach the missionary's ear. At length the 
custos announces that the bench, after due delib- 
eration, and with a willingness to grant any in- 
dulgence to one in his situation, have agreed to 
comply with his request, and a paper, which ap- 
pears to him surprisingly small, (considering the 
character which has been given to it,) is handed 
to the accused, with the intimation that it is only 
one of a large number in the hands of the magis- 
trates. That one, he is told, w T as found in the 
box of a dead slave, but many others have been 
discovered in the possession of living slaves, who 
confess to having received them from the hands of 
the Methodist minister. As the paper is handed 
to him every eye in the room is directed toward 
the missionary. At first an expression of unutter- 
able astonishment is visible on his countenance, 
which some of the observers regard as an indubi- 
table sign of guilt, but in a few seconds this gives 
place to the broad smile which a keen sense of the 
ludicrous is apt to call forth, and it becomes evi- 
dent to them all that the black-coated gentleman 
is restrained by a sense of the respect due to the 
court, and by that only, from giving way. to an 
exuberant tide of mirth, which it would be some 
relief to him to indulge. 



The Grotcndless Panic. 221 

Not a little surprised, and somewhat offended, 
by a result so contrary to the expectations of the 
grave assembly, every member of which has had 
visions before his mind's eye of a man in a black 
coat swinging upon the gallows, the cicstos inquires 
of the reverend gentleman what he has to say con- 
cerning that paper, and the others like it, and 
whether it is true that these documents have been 
distributed by him among the slaves. Certainly 
he cannot deny, and he does not wish to disguise 
it, that he gave that paper to the deceased slave, 
and that he has given out many of a similar de- 
scription to other persons, both free and slaves, a 
piece of intelligence which goes to confirm their 
worst suspicions. But great is their astonishment, 
not unmixed with doubt, when, with smiling grav- 
ity, he proceeds to inform them that the " sedi- 
tious " paper, which has so alarmed their honors, 
and spread such terror through the parish, is noth- 
ing more or less than a Methodist Ticket, given as 
a token of membership to all those who constitute 
the Societies or Churches of the body, and de- 
signed to show that the holders are entitled to the 
privilege of Christian communion. It is amusing 
to see the somewhat stolid features of the chief 
magistrate assume an expression of blank amaze- 
ment, which is shared, more or less, by those about 
him ; but one or two, who have wit to discern and 
appreciate the absurdity of the whole proceeding, 
look a little quizzical, half ashamed to feel that 
they have been betrayed into a false position. 
" But, sir," says the eustos, by no means disposed 



222 Romance Without Fiction. 

to -admit the explanation that has been given, 
11 how do you account for the highly inflammatory 
and dangerous words which we find upon this 
paper? Answer me that, sir! answer me that!" 
H Most readily, sir," replies the missionary. 
" Those words, which you regard as inflammatory 
and dangerous, are taken from the Holy Script- 
ures." Here looks of incredulity pass from one 
to another, while the missionary continues his ex- 
planation : " It is a passage which contains an ex- 
hortation to press into 'the kingdom of God,' and 
to ' fight the good fight of faith ' against all that 
oppose the salvation of our souls. Those words, 
sir, were certainly never intended by Him who 
first used them, or by his ministers, to stir up any 
one to commit violence against ' the powers that 
be.' His teaching — and ours, we hope, is in ac- 
cordance with it — instructs all to be subject to 
those powers, * not only for wrath, but for con- 
science' sake.'" u A passage of Scripture!" re- 
plies his honor; " no such thing! I don't believe 
it ! I don't think those inflammatory words are to 
be found in the Bible ! " A Bible is called for, 
but there is none at hand, and while one is looked 
up (for there ought to be one somewhere, which 
has been occasionally used for administering the 
oath to witnesses at the quarter sessions) one of 
the magistrates, a Scotchman, comes forward from 
a distant corner, and says, " Excuse me, your 
honor, but I think I remember reading some such 
words in the Bible when I was a boy. I am dis- 
posed to believe, after all, the gentleman is cor- 



The Groundless Panic. 223 

rect." This leads to a little discussion, and by 
the time it is finished the old tattered fragment of 
a Bible, which forms part of the court-house furni- 
ture, has been found. There is not a great deal 
of the Old Testament left, after long and rough 
service, and only a small portion of the New ; but, 
fortunately, the Gospel of Matthew is there, or as 
much of it as serves the purpose. And now the 
learned magistrates are astonished by another dis- 
covery, of which none of them seem to have the 
least conception, namely, that the strange marks, 
" Matt, xi, 12," only mean that the words printed 
on the card are to be found in the eleventh chap- 
ter of St. Matthew's Gospel, and at the twelfth 
verse ! On reference to the place thus indicated, 
there, to the sad discomfiture of the learned atstos, 
are found the very words which have caused so 
much dismay. 

All this, however, does not satisfy his honor and 
some of his compeers that there is not something 
very wrong in the business. The explanation given 
by the missionary shows that there is to be some 
" fighting " in the case, and their minds are so 
prepossessed with visions of insurrection and re- 
volt, massacre and blood, blazing cane-fields and 
burning sugar-works, that, notwithstanding what 
has been said, they are more than half persuaded 
that the issuing of these papers is part of a scheme 
designed to work out all these dreadful results ; so 
the missionary is likely, after all, to experience 
some trouble before he succeeds in getting out of 
the hands of these intelligent guardians of the 



224 Romance Without Fiction. 

public peace. But the Scotchman, who possesses 
a little more penetration and shrewdness than 
others about him, and who is less disposed than 
many of them to conclude that treason and rebell- 
ion must of necessity be a principal object of a 
Methodist preacher, again comes from his corner, 
and, in a short and pithy address to his learned 
colleagues, observes, "Your honor, the words on 
the cards are certainly taken from the Scriptures, 
though none of us were aware of it until the mis- 
sionary showed that it was so. But, whether they 
are taken from the Bible or not, they scarcely ad- 
mit of the construction that has been put upon 
them, for although Jamaica is truly a very fine 
and prosperous country, yet, with all its delights, 
it can in no wise be called ' the kingdom of 
heaven.' I presume, therefore, to suggest to your 
honor and my brother magistrates that as what the 
gentleman has said about the words being in the 
Bible turn out to be true, and we do not seem to 
know much about such matters ourselves, and as 
no overt act of rebellion has been committed, we 
may venture to take the word of the Methodist 
parson for once, and accept as satisfactory the ex- 
planation which he has given of this very suspicious 
business." 

A few of the magistrates have by this time 
stolen away very quietly, the affair having assumed 
an aspect perfectly ludicrous. After a little pri- 
vate consultation among themselves, the suggestion 
made by the Scotch gentleman is accepted by 
those who remain, who have failed to perceive 



The Groundless Panic, 225 

the small spice of irony with which it was tinct- 
ured ; but it is considered advisable that the 
custos should cover the retreat of the learned body 
by delivering a suitable admonition to the sup- 
posed culprit before he is discharged. With all 
the gravity and impressiveness he can command, 
the chief magistrate proceeds to this important 
task, which he accomplishes to the profound satis- 
faction both of himself and of the body of which 

he is the distinguished head : " Mr. , we are 

satisfied with your explanation of the present affair. 
But a word of caution may be useful to you. And 
mind, sir, we have our eyes upon you. We have 
no objection to your preaching to our negroes, 
provided you do so properly. Tell them to be 
good servants, sir. Tell them not to lie to their 
masters, nor to steal from them. Tell them not 
to be runaways, but to stay at home, and mind and 
do their masters* work. Preach this to them, sir, 
and welcome. But no faith, no faith, sir, if you 
please. Don't let us hear of your preaching faith, 
sir. No, no; we'll have no faith — 710 faith. Our 
negroes must not be corrupted with such a doc- 
trine as that. Take care then, sir. Our eyes 
are upon you, sir. Take care, and don't let us 
catch you preaching faith to them. You can now 
retire, sir." 

The missionary bows low at the conclusion of 
this remarkable address, and, without attempting 
a reply, bends his steps homeward, vastly amused, 
if not greatly edified, by the unique specimen of 
elocution to which he has just listened. The 



226 Romance Without Fiction. 

magisterial conclave breaks up, each retiring, 
somewhat crestfallen, to his home. The next 
thing is the recalling of the militia from the plan- 
tations, on which they have been keeping vigilant 
guard against the apprehended outbreak. The 
slave prisoners are brought out of the stifling cells 
in which they have been crowded, and bidden to 
go back to the estates to which they respectively 
belong, still profoundly ignorant concerning the 
crimes which have caused their imprisonment. 
The excitement in the town subsides almost as 
rapidly • as it arose ; business resumes its usual 
course ; and so ends the " rebellion " which has 
spread terror throughout the island from Manchio- 
neal to Negril, filled the newspapers with wild 
and groundless rumors, and occasioned such an 
amount of perplexity and trouble to the wise men 
of the east in Jamaica. 

N. B. — The Scotch magistrate became a kind 
friend of the missionaries in this part of the 
island ; and it was partly through his influence 
that, some years afterward, the parish authorities 
voted a grant of ^ioo to the widow of a young 
and laborious missionary who had fallen a victim 
to the Morant Bay fever. 



The Lost Missionary. 227 




IX. 



The Lost Missionary. 

Of thousands thou both sepulcher and pall, 
Old Ocean, art ! A requiem o'er the dead, 

From out thy gloomy cells 

A tale of mourning tells, — 
Tells of man's woe and fall, his sinless glory fled. — Dana. 

T EBE NON BONUM. Such were the words 
^in Roman capitals, about an inch in length, 
and cut deeply in the solid wood, that I 
found engraved on the massive railing that sepa- 
rated the raised quarter-deck from the main-deck 
of the vessel in the good barque " Hebe." It 
was in the year 1831 that she was bearing me, 
with my young wife and two other missionaries, 
across the Atlantic, to the. scene of our intended 
labors in the isles of the Caribbean Sea, where 
slavery held more than three quarters of a million 
of human beings in its cruel grasp ; and the yellow 
fever had been making havoc of the missionary 
band, who, in the face of bitter, relentless persecu- 
tion, were toiling with self-denying zeal to light 
up the dark path of the children of oppression 
with the bright hope of life and immortality be- 
yond the grave. The " Hebe " was from London, 
commanded by Captain Lawson. The owner, 

Captain Weller, was also on board, acting as su- 

15 



228 Romance Without Fiction. 

percargo, and looking well to the comfort of the 
twenty-nine passengers who had embarked in his 
ship for their several destinations in the West. 

" ''Hebe non bonum I ' What, Captain Weller," 
I asked, " is the meaning of this inscription, so 
derogatory to the character of the fine ship that is 
bearing us so comfortably and safely to our new 
homes ? " " Ah ! " replied he, " there is a mel- 
ancholy story connected with that inscription. 
Those letters were cut, as you see them, by a 
hand that was cold in death an hour after the in- 
scription was completed. It was the last act of 
poor Snelgrove, who, as you will doubtless have 
heard, was lost overboard last year on the banks 
of Newfoundland, when the ship was bound to 
New Brunswick. He had been occupied for an 
hour or two in cutting out those letters with his 
penknife when the accident occurred which, in a 
moment, cut off the promise of a devoted and use- 
ful life." 

This reply of the captain, while it invested the 
few simple words on which my eye was resting 
with a thrilling interest, awakened a crowd of 
memories which passed vividly before my mind ; 
for I had been associated for a short season with 
the young missionary whose career of usefulness 
had been cut short even before it had well com- 
menced. 

About a year before the inscription first met my 
gaze, I was one of a band of some twelve or fifteen 
young men assembled at the Wesleyan Mission 
House in Hatton Garden, London, all of whom 



The Lost Missionary. 229 

were destined for employment in the wide field 
of Wesleyan missions. Several of them had al- 
ready received their appointment, and were wait- 
ing until the vessels should be ready to sail which 
had been selected to convey them to their spheres 
of toil in. various parts of the world. Others were 
waiting for the usual examination before the Mis- 
sionary Committee, having been recommended by 
their several District Meetings for the mission 
work. Several more, of whom I was one, had been 
already approved and accepted,' and were about to 
return home to await the call of the Committee 
when openings should occur in the missions to 
create a demand for their services. 

While thus providentially thrown together for a 
few days, having never met before, and certain, 
when once scattered, never to come together again 
in this life, these young devotees of the missionary 
cause set apart each afternoon for mutual prayer 
and Christian. fellowship. An upper chamber of 
the Mission House, close under the roof, was used 
for this purpose. There many a hymn of praise 
ascended — sweet accepted sacrifice — and many 
an earnest prayer was poured out before God by 
these young servants of a heavenly Master for 
those richer baptisms of the Holy Spirit which 
should fit them for a successful discharge of the 
arduous duties to which their youthful energies 
had been consecrated. These were seasons of 
holy intercourse with God ; times of spiritual re- 
freshing, to be gratefully remembered under a 
tropic sun, or in the frozen regions of the north, 



230 Romance Without Fiction. 

and probably not to be forgotten in the annals of 
eternity. 

It was a beautiful summer afternoon, the last of 
the week, and the daily prayer-meeting was going 
on. Several had already engaged in prayer. All 
hearts were bowed down before the Lord, for a 
more than ordinary unction rested upon the youth- 
ful band that Saturday afternoon as first one and 
then another and another took the lead in ad- 
dressing the throne of grace. A loud knock- 
ing at the door interrupted what was going on. 
One of the young men stepped to the door and, 
opening it, received the message that had been 
brought ; and when the verse then being sung was 
concluded, announced it to the others : " Messrs. 
Daniel and Snelgrove are required to go on board 
immediately, as their vessel, the ' Hebe,' is now 
getting under way and will at once drop down 
the river and put to sea. ,, The meeting was bro- 
ken up, and the two young missionaries, after a lov- 
ing farewell to their companions, and accompanied 
by their best wishes and earnest prayers, departed 
to join the ship which was to be for some weeks 
their home upon the deep and convey them to 
the scene of their toil. Little did they, or any of 
those who were left behind, anticipate the occur- 
rence that was to consign one of these zealous 
young servants of the cross to a watery grave. 
Into no mind did the thought enter that one of 
them would be taken within the vail even before 
his eyes should rest upon the foreign coast where 
he fondly hoped that years of self-denying useful- 



The Lost Missionary. 231 

ness awaited him in the service of that honored 
Master who, in the morning of life, had called him 
to enjoy the blessedness of the great salvation, and 
put it into his heart to devote his life and energies to 
usefulness in the great mission field. 

Gayly sped the goodly bark down the Channel 
with her missionary passengers on board, all sails 
spread to a favoring breeze. It was hoped, from 
the favorable commencement of the voyage, that 
the " Hebe " would have a short and pleasant pas- 
sage to her destination in the New World. But 
changes of winds occurred as they ran between the 
French and English coasts, and a rough sea with 
head-winds failed not to exact the usual penalty 
from the inexperienced navigators who had never 
before known the effect of pitching and tossing up- 
on the rolling waves. The trouble was, however, 
of short duration. They speedily rallied from the 
prostration occasioned by sea-sickness, and were 
able to gaze with interest upon the towering cliffs 
and projecting headlands of the land that gave 
them birth, and which, although they were volunta- 
rily leaving it, they still loved so well. At length all 
the difficulties and hinderances of the Channel nav- 
igation have been encountered and overcome, and 
fondly they gaze upon the fading outlines of the 
land. Their hearts are heavy as memories of the 
past crowd upon the mind ; nor is it a reproach 
to their manhood that the tear falls as lingering 
looks continue to be directed toward the now all 
but invisible spot where they have so recently 
parted from all they hold dear on earth ! 



232 Romance Without Fiction. 

The rough waters of the British Channel have 
prepared the young missionaries for the rougher 
greeting of the Bay of Biscay, whose great rolling 
billows afford them opportunity of beholding and 
adoring the majesty and power of the Almighty 
One, of whom it is declared, "The sea is his, 
and he made it, and his hands prepared the dry 
land." Alternate breeze and calm, fair winds and 
head winds, have helped or impeded their prog- 
ress, calling into exercise both hope and patience 
during several weeks. The gambols of the por- 
poise, the spouting of the monster whale, the 
changing hues of the dolphin, languishing and dy- 
ing upon the deck, with the treacherous hook in 
his jaws, have all served to relieve the monotony 
of a long passage by sea, and all are fraught with 
interest to those who have hitherto been strangers 
to the wonders of the deep. 

But there have been things of a less pleasant 
character to diversify the experience of the mis- 
sionary voyagers. The captain in command of 
the vessel — a near relative of the owners — is a 
professor of religion, but not a man of genial 
temper and suavity of manners. Habitually rough 
and repulsive in his bearing, it has not served to 
improve his temper and deportment that he has 
embraced the sour, narrow creed of the Antinomian. 
He regards with scorn and disfavor the young men 
committed for a season to his care who are going 
to a distant part of the world as the heralds of the 
Gospel, because theirs is a message which pro- 
claims universal redemption, and teaches, 



The Lost Missionary. 233 

11 He hath for all a ransom paid, 
For all a full atonement made." 

Forgetting the' courtesy due to his missionary 
guests, he frequently indulges his sour, unamiable 
disposition by scoffing at truths which they hold 
most dear and important, and forces them unwill- 
ingly into controversial discussions they would 
gladly have avoided. This goes on for several 
weeks, grievously interfering with the comfort of 
the young men, and throwing an aspect of gloom 
over what might otherwise have been a pleasant 
voyage. 

Now they approach the banks of Newfoundland, 
and the weather, which has hitherto been corh- 
paratively calm and pleasant, becomes rough and 
stormy. Fierce gales succeed the balmy breezes 
that have wafted them on their course, and the 
vessel is tossed and tumbled about like a feather 
on the waves. Day after day the fierce sou'-wester ■ 
stirs up the depth of ocean, until the vast billows 
running past remind the beholder of the expres- 
sion they have often met with — " the waves run- 
ning mountains high/' Driven from the cabin to 
escape the coarse dogmatism of the captain, who 
persists in forcing upon them discussions with 
which they have become wearied and disgusted, 
the younger of the two missionaries, more sensi- 
tive than his sedate companion, one memorable 
afternoon betakes himself after dinner to the quar- 
ter-deck, preferring the loud roaring of the winds 
and the raging of the sea to angry and intolerant 
theological disputations, and seeks relief to his 



234 Romance Without Fiction. 

chafed and harassed spirit in carving the words 
which afterward arrested my attention, "Hebe non 
bonum / giving expression in this way to the feel- 
ing of discomfort and displeasure which for the 
moment oppressed his mind. It is with difficulty 
he has kept his feet by clinging to the rail, owing 
to the violent rolling of the ship. When the self- 
imposed task is completed, returning the knife to 
his pocket, he gazes moodily for a few moments 
upon the inscription, and then takes his seat upon 
the hencoops which line the bulwarks on either 
side of the quarter-deck, containing ducks and 
poultry, etc., destined to minister to the comfort 
of the passengers. Wave after wave rolls on, now 
bearing the ship high upon their crest, and again 
almost burying her out of sight as she sinks into 
the trough of the angry sea. 

For a few moments the young missionary sits 
gazing upon the wide waste of rushing waters, and 
listening to the roar of the gale as it howls through 
the rigging above his head, himself the only occu- 
pant of the quarter-deck except the mate in charge 
of the vessel and the man at the wheel. Perceiv- 
ing the near approach of a wave of stupendous 
magnitude that is rushing toward the ship, he rises 
hastily from his seat to go below, and makes a 
dash at the companion stair-head, hoping to gain 
footing and shelter there before the threatening 
billows should break against the vessel. But just 
as he rises the vessel takes a violent lurch, sinking 
into the deep trough of the sea until her bulwarks 
almost touch the water. She rests for a moment 



The Lost Missionary. 235 

on her beam ends, her deck being almost perpen- 
dicular with the raging tide. Pitched violently 
forward by the sudden motion of the ship, he 
misses his aim, shoots past the companion place, 
and in a moment plunges head foremost into the 
raging element. 

" Man overboard !" is the appalling cry that rings 
through the ship, and all hands immediately rush 
on deck. Hencoops are cut loose, and with the 
chairs scattered about are thrown overboard for 
the drowning man to grasp should he rise to the 
surface, and all on board rush aft to afford all the 
help that may be in their power. 

But no help is of any avail. No boat could live 
two minutes in those troubled waters. If the lost 
one ever came to the surface of that troubled rag- 
ing sea no human eye caught a glimpse of him. 
Only his hat can be seen floating near the spot 
where he has been engulfed. He has passed 
away far beyond mortal ken, and in the full vigor 
of young and lusty life has sunk into an ocean 
grave. He has left his companion to go alone to 
that which had been marked out as the scene of 
their united toil, and a large circle of loving 
friends to mourn over the unexpected intelligence 
of the loss they have sustained in his early re- 
moval to the land of the blessed, Dark and in- 
scrutable are the ways of God. We cannot now 
understand why the Great and Holy One should 
thus snatch away the young missionary to his rest 
before he could enter upon his work. But he 
doeth all things wisely and well, By and by we 



236 Romance Without Fiction. 

shall see clearly, as we cannot see now, that this 
painful dispensation of Providence that deprived 
the Church of a valuable missionary agent, and 
sent sorrow and anguish to many hearts, was ruled 
by unerring wisdom and infinite love. 

" God moves in a mysterious way, 

His wonders to perform ; 
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm." 



Yellow-Fever Victims. , 237 




XII. 

Yellow-Fever Victims. 

They who die in Christ are blest ; 

Ours "be, then, no thought of grieving ! 
Sweetly with their God they rest, 

All their toils and troubles leaving. 
So be ours the faith that saveth, 
Hope that every trial braveth, 
Love that to the end endureth, 
And, through Christ, the crown secureth ! 

Bishop Doane. 

1 FTER a voyage of more than sixty days 
from the Thames, the good ship " Atlan- 
tic " reaches her destination, bearing three 
young men, and the wife of one of them, to the 
scene of their allotted toil in the slave-land of 
Jamaica. 

Having dropped her anchor for a few hours 
during the night at Port Royal, she has taken ad- 
vantage of the land-breeze to make her way 
through the narrow, circuitous channel to Kings- 
ton, and while the morning is yet young, takes up 
the berth assigned to her by the imperative official 
styled the harbor-master. A shore boat shortly 
receives the passengers, with the few articles of 
baggage they are able to take on shore with them, 
and in a few moments they find themselves on the 
wharf. How new and strange is the scene ! 
They are surrounded by piles of lumber, with 



238 Romance Without Fiction. 

numerous hogsheads of sugar and puncheons of 
rum, that half-naked negro slaves are rolling to- 
ward a ship lying close to the wharf. The crew 
are busily occupied in hoisting them on board to 
the tune of some favorite nautical melody, which 
serves to animate and lighten their toil. Thread- 
ing their way with care over small pools of mo- 
lasses that have drained from the sugar casks, 
they soon emerge into a narrow street, where a 
decent-looking colored woman, hearing their in- 
quiries for the Methodist mission house, and justly 
concluding from their appearance that it is a band 
of new missionaries who have arrived, steps for- 
ward, and with respectful courtesy and smiling 
face, volunteers her services to conduct them to 
the place they wish to find. 

The streets are heavy with sand, and the full 
tide of tropical heat pours down upon them as 
they slowly follow their guide, who has pressed 
two or three of her sable acquaintances into the 
service, making them take charge of the packages 
which the voyagers have brought ashore with 
them. In a quarter of an hour they find them- 
selves in a fine square of considerable extent. 
On the eastern side a large house, with green ja- 
lousies stretching across the entire front, is pointed 
out to them as the chapel. The woman turns 
round as she directs their attention to it, and 
exhibiting in her pleasure a set of glittering 
ivory teeth, informs them, " Me member of the 
Society, too, massa. Me hope minister and 
missis hab one pleasant voyage. Me glad for 



Yellow-Fever Victims. 239 

true to see minister come for teach we de way 
to hebben." 

Ascending some steps through a broad gate- 
way, they pass between two wide staircases, which 
they are informed lead up into the chapel, and 
enter the mission house on the ground floor. 
They are warmly greeted by the occupants of the 
dwelling, even before they can present the letters 
of which they are the bearers from the connec- 
tional authorities under whose auspices they have 
left their homes to enter upon a field of useful- 
ness in a far distant foreign land. Very speedily 
a multitude of visitors are flocking around to wel- 
come them, for the news has rapidly spread far 
and wide in the city that some new missionaries 
have arrived from England. Many a warm shake 
of the hand and many a tear-bedewed cheek beai 
witness to the heartfelt joy with which their pres- 
ence is hailed. It is with very strange and min- 
gled emotions that the young missionaries and the 
fair youthful companion of their voyage regard the 
dusky faces which, full of animation, and radiant 
with pleasure, surround them on every side. 

These visitors are the free people, who thus 
hasten on wings of love to welcome the mission- 
aries among them, their time being at their own 
disposal. By and by one and another, with timid, 
faltering steps, present themselves at the door to 
look in upon "the new ministers and the lady." 
These they learn are children of bondage, slaves 
belonging to families in the city, who, sent upon 
some errand, have ventured to step a little out of 



240 Romance Without Fiction. 

the way "just to look at massa minister." Some 
of them have to bear no small amount of ill usage 
at the hands of unfeeling owners, who seek to cure 
their love of prayer, and drive religion out of. them, 
by the free use of the " cat." 

The new comers are not long in learning that it 
is no easy service to which they are devoted, and 
that they have come to a land where bigotry and 
persecution are rampant. The several attempts 
which have been made by the Legislature of the 
colony to hinder, by statute, the benevolent efforts 
of missionaries to enlighten and elevate the down- 
trodden children of Africa by the benign influences 
of the Gospel, have been baffled by a timely appeal 
to the justice and tolerant feelings of the sovereign* 
But the municipal authorities of the city, whose 
charter exempts them from the immediate control 
of the crown, and gives them power to make or- 
dinances for the government of the city, have been 
stirred up to abuse that power for evil purposes. 
A city ordinance now exists that prevents any re- 
ligious service being held in the city before sunrise 
or after sunset under heavy penalties. This intol- 
erant law has the designed effect of almost entirely 
cutting off the slaves in the city from the oppor- 
tunity of worship or instruction. Spies are ever 
on the watch to observe and bring to the notice of 
the authorities any infringement of this oppressive 
enactment. 

No disposition is cherished by the missionaries 
to oppose the authority so wantonly exercised, 
however they may groan under the oppression to 



Yellow-Fever Victims \ 241 

which they and their people are subjected, and 
they submit, commending their cause to God, and 
hoping for better days. The arrival of the new 
missionaries is hailed by hundreds with satisfac- 
tion and joy, heightened by the discovery that 
both the lady and her husband have excellent 
voices, well trained in the sweet melodies of those 
glorious Wesley hymns, whose lofty, glowing strains 
have cheered and animated thousands in the sor- 
rows of life and the vale of death, and helped to 
plume the wings of many a departing spirit in its 
last triumphant flight to the paradise of God. 

The little mission party assembled in the after- 
noon in the ordinary sitting-room, have sung to- 
gether many a familiar tune, to which the new 
harmonious voices lent an additional charm ; and 
many a new strain, adapted to bring forth with 
greater sweetness and power the true poetry of 
those beautiful hymns, has helped to beguile the 
hours and produce forgetfulness of all earthly sor- 
row and care. 

As the thrilling melody ascends — 

" To patient faith the prize is sure ; 
And all that to the end endure 

The cross, shall wear the crown "— 

the enjoyment of the party is rudely disturbed by 
the abrupt entrance of several officials of the 
law, including one of the city magistrates, who, 
directing their attention to the fact that a few 
minutes have passed beyond the hour when the 
law allows a religious service to be held, proceed 



242 Romance Without Fiction. 

at once to take Messrs. G. and K., the resident 
missionaries, into custody, for the purpose of con- 
ducting them to a place of confinement. It is in 
vain that they and others of the party point out 
that they were not holding any religious service 
within the meaning of the law, but merely amus- 
ing themselves, as a social party, in singing a few 
hymns. The astute official, in common with his 
sapient magisterial brethren, can discern no dif- 
ference. " Singing hymns is preaching " in their 
estimation, and " praying is also preaching ; " and, 
despite all remonstrance, the two missionaries are 
taken away, to find such rest as they may in the 
* dark,. comfortless dungeon dignified with the name 
of the " City Cage." On the following day the 
younger of the two is set at liberty by the magis- 
trates, while the elder, as the master of the house 
where the crime had been committed, is held 
guilty of holding a religious service after the hours 
prescribed by the law, and is sentenced to a month's 
confinement in the common jail, his wife permitted, 
as an act of grace, to share the imprisonment of her 
husband. 

The next day is the Sabbath, when Mr. F., one 
of the newly-arrived missionaries, the married 
man of the party, opens his commission in the new 
scene of his labors, another of the party occupying 
the pulpit in the afternoon. But the joy of all is 
damped by thoughts of the faithful pastor who is 
spending the sacred hours of the Sabbath within 
the walls of a prison, and many prayers, " uttered 
and unexpressed," go up to heaven on behalf of 



Yellow-Fever Victims. 243 

the suffering servant of the Lord and his faithful 
spouse, who has voluntarily immured herself in a 
gloomy cell that she may share and lighten her 
husband's privations. Far deeper grief would set- 
tle upon that congregation of earnest worshipers 
could they foresee the heavier calamity that is im- 
pending over them ; and that, before another Sab- 
bath shall summon them again to the sanctuary 
of Jehovah, one of those voices to which they have 
listened with rapt attention, proclaiming with soul- 
stirring eloquence the sublime truths of the Gos- 
pel, will be hushed in the silence of the grave. 
None dream of the sorrow so close at hand. Into 
no mind does the thought enter that the sweet, 
thrilling strains of the youthful pair, which could 
charm the persecuted ministers of the cross into 
forgetfulness of persecutors and persecuting laws, 
will, in a few brief hours only, be heard mingling 
with the songs of angels and the choir above. 
Yet so it is to be. Loving and kind is the wisdom 
of God that hides the future from our vision, and 
saves us from the untold anguish that would accrue 
to multitudes from knowing the things which are 
to come. 

The Sabbath passes, a day of hallowed delights 
in the service of the sanctuary ; a day which, be- 
cause of the associations linked therewith, is to 
have a pre-eminent and permanent place in the 
memories of not a few. It is the day after the 
Sabbath, and the third day after the arrival of the 
missionary party, when the young wife complains 

of feeling more than she has done before the -re- 

16 



244 Romance Without Fiction. 

laxing influence of the tropical climate. A severe 
frontal headache, and pains in the back and limbs, 
soon begin to indicate to those who are experi- 
enced in tropical diseases incident to the climate 
that it is the insidious approach of the fever, so 
fatal within and near the tropics, that has to be 
resisted. When this truth is apprehended prompt 
medical treatment is resorted to, and skillful 
nurses with loving hearts and willing hands are 
present to minister with the tenderest care to all 
the wants of the patient, and do every thing that 
human power can accomplish to alleviate pain, 
and arrest the formidable malady. The few 
hours that have elapsed have made it manifest 
beyond all doubt that it is the worst type of the 
country fever — the vomito prieto, or yellow fever — 
that is seizing in its deadly grasp all the powers, 
and assailing the life of the young and lovely 
wife, 

Deep anguish lays hold on the spirit of the 
anxious husband as the conviction is realized 
that the loved one, who has so recently linked 
her destiny with his own, and given up home and 
friends and many a comfort and enjoyment to 
share his arduous toil in the mission field — the 
wife of whose lovable qualities and blooming 
loveliness he has been so proud — is actually under 
the power of that deadly fever of whose terrible 
ravages he has heard and read so much. He en- 
deavors to bear up with manly fortitude under the 
trying visitation, and calls upon the Giver of all 
grace to aid him. But his heart sinks as he 



Yellow-Fever Victims. 245 

touches the burning hand held out with a smile 
to greet him, and see how gloomy is the expression 
on the face of the medical man when, after an in- 
vestigation of all the symptoms, he turns away 
from the bedside of the sufferer. 

More than once during the night he stands at 
the bedside of his wife, and marks the restlessness 
with which she moves the weary limbs, finding no 
ease in any position, With his own hand he applies 
the moistened cloths to the aching brow and throb- 
bing temples, and rejoices to find that in the midst 
of strong pains the utterance of the name which is 
above every name calls forth a sweet responsive 
smile. He cannot comply with the advice so often 
urged upon him by the dark-skinned but pleasant- 
looking nurses, who move about the sick chamber 
with noiseless step, that " Minister had better lie 
down and rest." The morning dawns, but brings 
no relief to the object of their kind solicitude, no 
abatement of the fever. Neither skin nor pulse in- 
dicates that any favorable change has taken place, 
and the doctor has no word of encouragement for 
the anxious husband, who attributes to anxiety 
and want of rest the general feeling of indisposi- 
tion and langor which has crept over him, and 
seems to have enervated all his powers of mind 
and body. 

As the morning advances this feeling becomes 
more painfully oppressive ; and the day has not 
passed the meridian, when uneasy sensations in the 
head, back, and limbs, a dry, heated skin and 
quickened pulse, admonish him that he too is 



246 Romance Without Fiction. 

about to succumb to the dread disease that has in 
a few hours prostrated the energies of his wife, 
and placed the life so precious to him in danger. 
He looks once more, before consenting to lie down, 
upon the fever-flushed countenance of the being 
who above all on earth is dear to him. She greets 
him with a loving, languid smile ; and he, little 
supposing that he is never in this life to look upon 
those sweet features again, retires, and lays him- 
self down upon the bed, from which he is des- 
tined not to rise until he is borne to his last long 
home. 

In his case the progress of the fever is even 
more rapid than with his suffering partner. The 
medical man is again hastily summoned. Bleed- 
ing, blistering, and all those potent drugs with 
which it is the custom of the times for medical 
practitioners to contend for precious life with the 
fell disease — often with very poor* success — are in 
requisition. It is in vain ; a night of agony is 
passed, the loving nurses seeking by continual 
cooling applications to afford relief; but not the 
slightest check appears to have been given to the 
disorder. Before the return of another night the 
patient is in a state of delirium ; and when the 
morning dawns the bright yellow hue, which gives 
the appropriate designation to the deadly malady, 
has overspread the body of the sufferer. The 
fatal symptom of black vomit soon appears, and 
all hope of recovery is given up. But the rul- 
ing passion is strong in death. From that fever 
couch sweet snatches of melody resound through 



Yellow-Fever Victims. 247 

the apartment, melting all hearts, and carrying 
home to them the conviction that the hallowed 
spirit of the dying man of God is 

" Ready wing'd, for the flight 
To the mansions of light," 

and prepared, through the soul-renewing grace of 
Jesus, to enter with glorious triumph into the 
realms of endless day. " Precious blood ! " " My 
Jesus ! " " My Saviour ! " " Heaven, my blessed 
home ! " are the expressions, mingling with coup- 
lets and verses of the hymns he knew, and loved, 
and sung so well, that dwelt upon his parched and 
blistering lips. Once or twice the name of the 
loved partner of his youth escapes him, followed 
by the recollection that she too is prostrate with 
the fever. 

On the third day the end draws nigh, and it 
becomes manifest to all that death is there. But 
the Conqueror of death is there also. " Jesus ! 
precious Jesus ! " issues faintly, but again and 
again, from the dying lips, and the radiant joy of 
victory overspreads and lights up every feature. 
Suddenly raising himself, with unexpected strength, 
to a sitting position, he shouts, " Jesus ! Glory ! 
Jesus ! Glory ! " and ejecting a flood of dark mat- 
ter from his mouth, resembling coffee grounds — 
the dissolved blood which has found its way into 
the stomach — he falls back upon the pillow, and 
the happy spirit, absent from the body, is present 
with its Lord. 
* Meanwhile disease and death are doing their 



248 Romance Without Fiction. 

work somewhat more slowly upon the other vic- 
tim, bringing down the pride of youthful vigor 
and the sweetness of youthful beauty to the tomb. 
Medical still has exhausted its resources, and 
tender nursing has done its best, but not for one 
moment has the fever been arrested in its fatal 
course. One stage of the dire malady has fol- 
lowed another with fearful rapidity, and now the 
last stage has been reached. The skin, recently 
so fresh and lovely with the glow of health, is now 
almost of saffron hue, and frequent paroxysms of 
delirium herald the approach of the destroyer. 
She has been told, soon after the fever seized 
upon him, when she inquired for her husband, 
that he was not well, and had been obliged to 
retire to bed. But no information has been al- 
lowed to reach her of the serious character of his 
illness, nor have the attendants ventured to inform 
her that he has already passed before her to the 
regions of the blest. It was shortly before mid- 
night that the young missionary ceased to be 
numbered with the living, and now several hours 
have fled, and the dawning of a new day will soon, 
appear. A group of anxious faces are round the 
bed ; several nurses, with light and tender hands, 
continually change the cloths, dipped in vinegar 
and water, upon the heated brow, alleviate the 
pain a little if they can do no more.. The last 
fatal symptoms have come on, the occasional 
paroxysms of delirium, and the black vomit, 
generally regarded as the immediate forerunner 
of dissolution. But there, too, -is the rejoicing 



Yellow-Fever Victims. 249 

spirit, looking to Jesus, and trusting in Jesus, 
and during lucid intervals warbling, in tones of 
exquisite sweetness, 

" Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let me to thy bosom fly, 
While the nearer waters roll, 

While the tempest still is high ; 
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, 

Till the storm of life is past ; 
Safe into the haven guide, 

O receive my soul at last." 

As they look upon her, after singing with the 
same sweet voice a verse of " Rock of Ages/' the 
nurses see a bright flush of joy overspread her 
countenance, and in tones of peculiar animation 
and triumph she exclaims, " They are come ! the 
angels have come, and I am going home ! " Gaz- 
ing into what is vacancy to all around, but evi- 
dently not to her, for her countenance is radiant 
with rapturous delight, she suddenly turns to the 
nurse by her side, and laying her hand upon the 
nurse's arm, while an expression of surprise min- 
gles with that of triumphant joy, she exclaims, to 
the astonishment of all present, " You did not tell 
me that Mr. Frith was dead, and that he had gone 
to heaven before me ! " u How did you know 
it ? " inquires the mother in Israel to whom the 
words are addressed. " I see him. He is there 
among the angels. They are singing, and I hear 
his voice, and he is come to take me to heaven. 
O how sweet ! O how sweet ! Sweet ! sweet ! " 
Who shall say, after this revelation, that there is 



250 Romance Without Fiction. 

in heaven no recognition of earthly friends? And 
the purified spirit, as the words become gradually- 
softer, languishes into rest, and goes to join the 
loved one and the blood-washed host around the 
throne, to sing the praises of redeeming love. 

It is not a climate in which fond affection may 
linger and weep day after day over the remains of 
the departed before they are consigned to the 
dust. Rapid is the process by which the form, so 
precious to loving hearts, hastens to decay. A 
few brief hours only can be given to the indul- 
gence of fond regrets, and then even love itself 
hastens to hide away what is so dear in the con- 
cealment of the grave. Side by side, as they but 
a few months ago walked away in the fullness of 
' earthly bliss from the altar at which they had ex- 
changed their vows of wedded' love, so now they 
are borne to- the grave. Lovely and pleasant in 
their lives, in death they are not divided. Large 
is the company of the mourners, for wide-spread 
sympathy has been awakened through the city 
toward the persecuted Church which mourns over 
the imprisonment of the faithful pastor, and has 
now been bereaved of a pair of earnest, devoted 
laborers in a single night. Thousands attend the 
bodies to their last resting-place, and listen with 
chastened feelings to the solemn funeral service 
which closes the earthly history of the youthful 
couple so suddenly swept away from life. Hun- 
dreds of sable and swarthy cheeks are bedewed 
with tears as the sweet strains of the closing hymn 
go up to heaven— 



Yellow-Fever Victims. 251 

" Our friends are gone before 

To that celestial shore ; 
They have left their mates behind, 

They have all the storms outrode, 
Found the rest we toil to find, 

Landed in the arms of God. 

11 And shall we mourn to see 

Our fellow-prisoners free ? 
Free from doubts, and griefs, and fears, 

In the haven of the skies ! 
Can we weep to see the tears 

Wip'd forever from their eyes ? " 

On the following day the chapel seems con- 
verted into a Bochim, while the missionary dwells 
upon the words, "Them also which sleep in Jesus 
will God bring with him." Only one short week 
ago he that now sleeps in the dust stood in the 
pulpit, and in soul-thrilling 'words, which those 
who listened to them will never forget, delivered 
his message from God, and won some souls to 
Christ. It was his first and last message to that 
people. There, with his blooming partner, he 
had assisted in the sweet melody of praise, their 
rich tones delighting all hearers, and giving them 
a better idea than they had ever conceived be- 
fore of the harmony of the choir above. Now 
both voices are hushed in the silence of the 
tomb. They have passed away as a shadow 
ascended to the glorious spirit-land, there to 
sing before the throne the song of Moses and 
the Lamb. 

Some will speak for many years of the preacher 



252 Romance Without Fiction. 

who came from England to preach only one 
sermon, call them to repentance and salvation, 
and then sink into the dust ; and of the 
beautiful young wife who, when dying, though 
not informed that her husband had gone 
to the better land before her, could distin- 
guish his well-known, well-beloved voice in the 
angel throng that had come to convoy her own 
happy spirit to the throne of God and of the 
Lamb. 



The Midshipmen's Frolic. 253 



XIII. 



The Midshipmen's Frolic. 

0, when we swallow down 
Intoxicating wine, we drink damnation ! 
Naked we stand, the sport of mocking- fiends, 
Who gTin to see our noble nature yanquish'd, 
Subdued to beasts. — C. Johnson. 



C££. 



^N 1831 "the hell-like saturnalia of martial 
rjlj. law " was proclaimed in Jamaica, and contin- 
ued with its horrors for seven or eight weeks. 
According to some of the legal men of that day, 
" martial law is the abrogation of all law, and even 
of Christianity itself." So spoke the oracle in the 
person of the acting attorney-general of Jamaica. 
And during those evil days crimes were perpe- 
trated and cruelties enacted at the contemplation 
of which angels might weep. If fiends had been 
holding high carnival it could scarcely have been 
worse. All unholy passions were rampant. But 
amid these scenes of blood and horror circum- 
stances occasionally transpired partaking largely 
of the ludicrous, in which category the sequel of 
the following brief history may be included. 

In one of the south-western parishes there re- 
sided a Mr. D., who was a planting attorney on a 
large scale, representing a considerable number of 
absentee proprietors, who intrusted him, by power 



254 Romance Without Fiction. 

of attorney, with the control and management of 
their sugar and coffee plantations and other es- 
tates. It was not unfrequently the case that men 
of this class, under the old slavery dispensation, 
were intrusted each with the care of fifty or sixty 
properties, from every one of which they derived 
a considerable revenue. They received a liberal 
commission on all the produce of these properties 
and plantations, controlling them with absolute 
and irresponsible power, although in many in- 
stances they did not visit some of them even once 
a year. 

These planting attorneys were among the mag- 
nates of the land, taking rank with the principal 
officials of the Government. They were, however, 
not unfrequently men of small intelligence and 
little education, who had pushed themselves up 
from the lowest condition to all the gradations of 
planter life, until, by concurrence of favorable cir- 
cumstances, they gained the coveted position of 
attorneys, which invested them with supreme con- 
trol over the property of their constituents, and 
gave them the opportunity of enriching themselves 
and ruining their employers. By this class of 
agents many wealthy West India proprietors were 
brought down to poverty and ruin, discovering 
too late the folly of allowing greedy adventurers 
to suck the life-blood out of their estates, while 
they were wasting their time in luxury and indo- 
lence in the gay capitals of Europe. 

Not a few of these planting attorney's were from 
the north of the Tweed, sent out originally to fill 



The Midshipmen s Frolic. 255 

the lowest offices held by white slave-drivers on 
the plantations ; but, rising gradually to the highest, 
as the yellow fever, in its desolating ravages among 
the planting fraternity, made the vacancies to which 
they aspired. So well understood was the exhaust- 
ing process to which they subjected the plan- 
tations and their unfortunate constituents, that the 
symbols of their rapacity were commonly pointed 
out in every forest. The stranger journeying over 
the tree-covered hills, or winding his way through 
shady ravines or valleys, would have his attention 
directed to " the Scotchinan hugging the Creole." 
Looking in the direction indicated, he would be- 
hold some giant tree firmly clasped in the close 
embrace of one of the parasitical climbers that 
abound in tropical woods ; its trunk covered all 
over with a powerful network, by which not only 
is the further growth of the tree obstructed, but 
its life is gradually but surely eaten out, until, in 
due time, the stately monarch of the forest falls 
into decay, destroyed by the apparently feeble 
creeper that has encircled it in its deadly coils, 
and treacherously exhausted its strength and life. 
To this class belongs Mr. D., fitly represented 
by the forest emblem of " the Scotchman hugging 
the Creole. " He was the autocrat of many plan- 
tations and cattle-breeding pens, deriving a large 
revenue from them to the loss of the proprietors, 
who, with many others of that once proud and 
wealthy class, might have been preserved from the 
ruin which came upon them if they had exercised 
the prudence to look after their own interests, in- 



256 Romance Without Fiction. 

stead of leaving them to unscrupulous mercenaries, 
who cared very little for the losses suffered by 
their employers so long as they could increase 
their own gains. He was a magistrate, and also 
held high rank in the militia ; so that when mar- 
tial law was proclaimed, to quell the wide-spread 
insurrection that broke out among the slaves at 
the Christmas of 1831, he glittered, by brevet, in 
the cocked hat and dazzling uniform of a major- 
general, chief in command over the whole district 
of country in which his principal residence was 
situated. 

Like most of the order, he led a life of sensual 
indulgence, gaining a character for hospitality 
which, as in' all such cases, was exercised at the 
expense of the absentee proprietors. Their es- 
tates furnished the means of indulging the de- 
bauchery and intemperance to which the magnates 
of the plantocracy generally surrendered them- 
selves whenever they chose to visit the estates 
under their control. When it suited their pleas- 
ure or convenience to look after the interests of 
constituents, and pay a visit to the estates, they 
always occupied the " great house " on each plan- 
tation, which, with its retinue of slaves for domes- 
tic and other worse purposes, was kept for the 
sole accommodation of these lords of the soil. 

Mr. D. himself became the owner of a planta- 
tion property, and kept his own private resi- 
dence, a few miles distant from one of the sea- 
ports on the south coast of the island. There he 
was surrounded by his own slaves ; and there, dur- 



The Midshipmen *s Frolic. 2 $7 

ing brief intervals which he chose to spend at 
home, he indulged in the same riotous orgies that 
usually marked his periodical visits to the estates 
of his employers. 

It was during the Christmas holidays of 1828 
that he detected one of his female slaves — a fair col- 
ored girl named Damsel-— helping herself to a glass 
of rum from a decanter on his well-replenished side- 
board. As he was a man of fierce and vindictive 
passions, ripened to fearful maturity by the corrupt- 
ing and brutalizing influences to which he had been 
exposed while passing through the various grades 
of slave-driving life, the girl trembled when she be- 
held her master's eye resting upon her. Though 
claiming the rank and character of a gentleman, 
he could be guilty of revolting cruelty toward the 
unfortunates hearing the form and possessing the 
noble attributes of humanity, yet systematically 
plundered of all human rights, because it was 
their misfortune to inherit from their Creator a 
darker complexion than their neighbors. 

Excited by drink beyond all self-control, this 
white gentleman, who would show such complai- 
sance and politeness to the gentle sex of his own 
color, whenever he was thrown into their society, as 
to render it difficult to believe that he could ever, 
under any circumstances, be guilty of cowardly 
violence to a woman, laid brutal hands upon the 
offending Damsel. Having with heavy fist in- 
flicted severe punishment upon her head and 
face, he rent off, with the fury of a madman, every 
fragment of clothing that covered the person of 



258 Romance Witpiout Fiction. 

the unfortunate girl, who was of an age to feel 
this outrage upon her modesty even more than she 
felt the painful bruises his cowardly hands had in- 
flicted upon her person. Not satisfied with this, 
the drunken tyrant had her taken, just as she was, 
into the yard, and summoning the driver to his 
aid he caused her to be laid flat upon her face, 
and stood by while that terrible functionary 
stripped skin and flesh from the shoulders down- 
ward by a flogging such as only the muscular, 
well-practiced arm of a brawny slave-driver was 
capable of inflicting. He then ordered that she 
should be taken, faint and bleeding, and perfectly 
naked as she was, to the guard-house. And 
thither she was speedily conveyed more dead 
than alive. 

In those times it was the custom to " keep . 
guard " at Christmas. Three days were by law then 
given to the slaves as holidays. By slaves under 
the influences of the religion taught by the mis- 
sionaries, these three holidays were spent in re- 
ligious exercises and interchange of friendly visits. 
By the rest of the slaves they were devoted to 
revelry and John-Canoe processions, and music, 
and dancing, and feasting. Some of the white 
people occasionally lavished considerable sums 
upon the sets of " Blues " and " Reds," who strove 
to outvie each other in the gayety and splendor of 
their adornings. During these Christmas revels 
the several regiments of militia, all over the island, 
were wholly or partially embodied and armed, for 
the purpose of " keeping guard " and suppressing 



The Midshipmen's Frolic.* 259 . 

any outbreak among the slave population. The 
whites lived in a state of chronic alarm. 

Not far distant from the residence of Mr. D. 
was the guard-house, and a party of the St. Eliza- 
beth militia were assembled there on duty. 
Thither Damsel was conveyed with her bleeding 
wounds thick upon her, but without a particle of 
clothing, and thrust into a cell. Had he not been 
infuriated and blinded by drink, and altogether 
incapable of serious reflection, Mr. D. would no 
doubt have hesitated about sending the sufferer to 
the guard-house, and thus exposing the cruelty 
with which he treated his unfortunate slave to the 
officers and men assembled there from many of 
the plantations around. But it had become well 
known that he was accustomed to behave like a 
madman in those fits of intemperance in which he 
very frequently indulged. 

Among the officers on duty there happened to 
be some members of the most respectable Creole 
families residing in that part of the country ; men 
who, while they treated their own slaves with hu- 
manity, and some even with tenderness, regarded 
with abhorrence the atrocities too often practiced 
by the hireling upstarts who succeeded in obtaining 
authority over the suffering children of Africa held 
in bondage on the estates. Several of these gen- 
tlemen were shocked by the outrage upon the poor 
girl, whom they saw brought among them without 
a rag of clothing upon her, and her person cruelly 
lacerated and bleeding, and they united to afford 
protection and redress to the injured one. 

17 



260 Romance Without Fiction. 

Among those ameliorations of slavery in the 
colonies that British philanthropy had wrung from 
the reluctant, powerful West India interest, was a 
provision for the appointment of a council of pro- 
tection, to investigate cases of alleged maltreatment 
of slaves and afford redress to the injured. This 
" council of protection," so called, was invested 
with power to direct the prosecution of offenders, 
and to compensate cruelly treated slaves by giv- 
ing them their freedom. Through the interposi- 
tion of the above mentioned gentlemen, who rep- 
resented this instance of cruel oppression to the 
proper authorities, a council of protection was or- 
dered to investigate the case of Damsel. 

Unhappily, as was almost always the case with 
these tribunals, it was composed entirely of men 
whose sympathies strongly favored the oppressor, 
and whose interests were bound up in slavery, and 
in maintaining the right which slaveholders and 
planters claimed of doing whatever they thought 
proper to maintain their authority over their 
slaves. The result was that councils of protection, 
in almost every instance in which they were 
held, amounted only to a farce and a mockery, 
and presented a very feeble check indeed to those 
cruelties in which many overseers and owners of 
slaves were prone to indulge. The most revolting 
acts of oppression were uniformly declared by 
these tribunals, in the face of the clearest evidence 
to the contrary, to be too trifling to require the 
adoption of any proceedings to punish the offender, 
The chief purpose they served, and which they 



The Midshipmen's Frolic. 261 

were intended by the colonial lawmakers to pro- 
mote, was to cast dust in the eyes of the British 
public by a deceitful show of legal protection to the 
slaves, while securing immunity to evil doers. 

This was the issue in the case of the girl Damsel. 
A council of protection was called to investigate 
the complaint of cruel treatment which, under the 
advice and by the help of the gentlemen who had 
taken the matter in hand, she made against her 
owner, Mr. D. Notwithstanding the girl's state- 
ment of the brutal treatment she had experienced 
at the hands of her master, and the evidence of 
the officers and men, who had seen her brought 
naked, and covered with wounds and blood, to the 
guard-house, the complaint was dismissed by the 
planters composing the court of protection, and 
Mr. D. was declared to have done nothing more 
than he had a legal right to do with his slaves. 

Poor Damsel was handed over to the tender 
mercies of her owner, who, though not habitually 
cruel to his slaves when he was sober, was capable, 
in his cups, of almost any atrocity. This decision 
did not, however, satisfy those who had constituted 
themselves the protectors of the injured girl. 
They forwarded the particulars of the case to the 
governor ; and, as he happened to be one so much 
under planter influence, and possessing so little 
strength of character, that nothing satisfactory 
could be looked for from him, they also reported 
the whole matter to the Colonial Office in Lon- 
don. The partiality and injustice of the council 
of protection were so palpable from the evidence 



262 Romance Without Fiction. 

that had been taken, that immediate instructions 
were given by the secretary for the colonies for 
the attorney-general of Jamaica to initiate a pros- 
ecution of the offender. This was done. The 
attorney-general did not happen to be a personal 
friend of the criminal, and was, moreover, an 
honest man. He performed the duty laid upon 
him with sincerity and zeal. An upright Christian 
judge — Sir William Scarlett — was on the bench, 
who was alive to the responsibility of his position. 
A jury was found to give a right and conscientious 
verdict — a very uncommon thing in Jamaica in 
those days — and Mr. D. stood convicted as a vio- 
lator of the law in the inhuman treatment to which 
he had subjected his helpless slave. Severely rep- 
robating his conduct as unmanly and brutal, and 
disgraceful to himself and to the country, the 
court sentenced him to pay a fine of fifty pounds, 
and also to lose his property in the bones and 
sinews of poor Damsel, who obtained her freedom 
as a compensation for the wrongs and ^cruelties 
she had suffered at the hands of her owner. 

At the end of 1831 there broke out the formi- 
dable insurrection among the slaves in the north- 
western parishes of the island that gave the death- 
blow to British colonial slavery, and led immedi- 
ately to its abolition. 

All the available military force of the island was 
called out to quell the insurgents, and while the 
troops were thus occupied on the land, at all the 
principal ports round the west end of the island 
there were stationed ships of war, whose crews 



The Midshipmen's Frolic. 263 

were employed wherever their services could be 
made available to support the movements of the 
soldiers. The officers of these ships were often 
entertained and feted by the wealthy merchants 
in the towns, or by the planters whose dwellings 
lay contiguous to the several ports. After the 
insurrection had been subdued these ships of war 
remained for some months at their respective sta- 
tions until perfect tranquillity was restored, to 
guard against any further insurrectionary move- 
ments on tjie part of the negroes. During this 
time the officers made acquaintance with the fam- 
ilies living within a circuit of some miles, spending 
their time very pleasantly, and enjoying the un- 
bounded hospitality for which Jamaica had long 
been famous. 

Among those who courted the society of the 
blue-jacket officers was Mr. D., the gentleman 
already spoken of. He frequently invited parties 
of them from the ship lying at Black River, as 
they were able to leave the vessel, to visit him at 
his stately and well-furnished mansion, situated a 
few miles inland, where they were sumptuously 
entertained, and where they found much amuse- 
ment, varied occasionally with a little annoyance 
in the strange vagaries of their host when he be- 
came too drunk to distinguish between his guests 
and his slaves. On these occasions he would do 
many absurd things that suggested themselves to 
his muddled brain, and fall into many laughable 
mistakes, ordering both guests and slaves about 
with admirable impartiality. Occasionally he 



264 Romance Without Fiction. 

would send the officers back to their ship in a 
condition, with regard to sobriety, not very much 
better than his own. 

Parties of midshipmen were allowed occasion- 
ally to enjoy Mr. D.'s hospitality, but under posi- 
tive restrictions, on the part of the captain, as to 
the quantity of wine they were to indulge in, any 
violation of which they well knew would put an 
end to their pleasant visits and excursions ashore. 
These mischief-loving youths, never loath to par- 
take of the luxuries of the wealthy planter's table, 
greatly enjoyed the fun which the drunken freaks 
of their host afforded them. While they were 
careful to keep themselves within the prescribed 
limits, they encouraged him to drink, helping him, 
after their own wild fashion, with mixed potions, 
and substituting gin or whisky for water until he 
became helpless in their hands, and would indulge 
in brutal or lordly pranks as the humor of the mo- 
ment predominated. 

On one of these occasions four or five fun-lov- 
ing middies formed the party which the planter 
major-general carried off with him in his carriage 
from "the Bay" to dine at his house, and return 
on board in the evening. As the ship was soon to 
leave the station, they resolved to make the most 
of the day in frolic and mischief. Arrived at their 
destination, some seven or eight miles inland, they 
gave themselves up to amusement in all sorts of 
wild escapades, to the great delight of their host, 
who entered into the fun as heartily as themselves. 
At length the well-furnished dinner table invited 



The Midshipmen s Frolic. 265 

their attention, and they did such justice to the 
luxurious viands spread before them as hungry 
denizens of the cock-pit know well how to do. 
Having satisfied the demands of appetite, the 
youngsters gave themselves up to the task of 
helping their willing entertainer into a state of 
complete intoxication, and extracting from him 
all the fun which experience had taught them he 
was in that condition likely to afford. 

It happened on this occasion that he was dis- 
posed to be very lordly in his drunkenness, and 
to forget all distinction between the frolicsome 
middies and the half-naked young negroes that 
waited about the house and stables to serve the 
pleasure of the great man. Having drunk himself 
into a state of utter helplessness and partial blind- 
ness, he fancied himself in his bedroom, and with 
not a few oaths and curses, addressed to his youth- 
ful guests, whom he confounded with his negro- 
boy attendants, called upon them to render their 
services to help him in preparing for bed. " Here, 
you imp," he says to one of them, "come and take 
off this boot." " Yes, sir," was the ready reply, 
and entering fully into the fun of the thing, the 
youngster addressed himself to the task assigned 
to him. But he found it to be, either from want 
of tact or strength, a somewhat difficult undertak- 
ing. The boot wouldn't come off. Irritated by 
the failure of the attempt, the drunken man 
snatched a glass from the table and hurled it at 
the head of his assistant, who cleverly avoided the 
missile by dodging, and then, with a volley of 



266 Romance Without Fiction. 

fierce oaths, he summoned him to a renewal of the 
task. " Yes, sir, certainly," responded the grin- 
ning middy, and, taking a knife from his pocket, 
he dexterously slit up the leg of the boot and cast 
it off. Lifting the other foot, the lordly drunkard, 
with a curse, commanded the youth, " Take that 
off too." The boot was readily set free in the 
same way as its fellow had been. " You, sir," ad- 
dressing another of the young officers, and letting 
fly another curse, " come here and help me off 
with this coat." "Yes, sir, certainly," he replies, 
and, borrowing the penknife from his companion, 
he speedily disencumbers the drunken man of his 
coat, slitting it up as the other youngster had done 
with the boots. Obeying the imperative mandates 
of the host, the uproarious youngsters shortly di- 
vest him, with the help of the knife, of all his gar- 
ments excepting his shirt. 

By this time the evening is far spent, and the 
carriage, which has been previously ordered to 
take the guests back to the Bay, is brought to the 
door, and the youth who is to be the coachman 
appears in the room to let them know that all is 
ready for their return. The inebriate, who sits 
grinning in his easy-chair in a state of maudlin 
helplessness, has just sense enough left to com- 
prehend the import of this announcement. He 
has forgotten all about going to bed, concerning 
which he was so much in earnest a short while 
ago, and he takes it into his muddled head that 
he will go with them in the carriage. It is in vain 
that the middies and the domestics endeavor to 



The Midshipmen's Frolic. 267 

reason with him, and prevail upon him to remain 
at home and go to bed. Rendered furious by any 
thing like resistance to his imperious will, he 
storms and curses all about him, and bearing 
down all opposition, insists upon getting into the 
carriage just as he is, throwing away every article 
that is handed to him for covering except his 
military cocked hat, for which, as the mark that 
distinguishes his high military rank, he seems to 
cherish a fond affection. 

As time is pressing, and they must be on board 
at the appointed hour, which is now not far off, 
the middies cease from the vain effort to turn 
their host from his purpose, and scramble into the 
carriage, secretly delighted, no doubt, that the 
drunken obstinacy of the man has given such an 
unexpected turn to their frolic. They have not 
failed to light their cigars before taking their de- 
parture, and as they drive along, the helpless im- 
becile, rolling first to one side, then to the other, 
• swings himself in contact with the lighted cigars, 
which sets him off in a fresh volley of oaths and 
imprecations upon u the mosquitoes, whose stings 
are so sharp/' Capital fun this for the thought- 
less middies, who enjoy it exceedingly. All the 
way they go they amuse themselves by making a 
gentle application of the burning end of the cigar 
to the naked legs of the poor, helpless, tormented 
victim, who, supposing it to be the mosquitoes, 
pours forth fresh torrents of invective against 
them at every touch, while the true authors of 
the pain are convulsed with laughter. 



268 Romance Without Fiction. 

As they draw near the end of the journey they 
have to cross the bridge that affords access to the 
town in that direction. By some dextrous move- 
ment the cherished cocked hat gets jerked into 
the river, to the great dismay of the negro driver 
and the indignation of his master, who curses the 
poor slave lad in his drunken blindness as the 
cause of the disaster, while it is in truth a freak of 
the frolicksome middies. By the time they arrive 
where the boat awaits them the drunken man has 
sunk into a heavy sleep. They are sufficiently 
considerate to borrow a blanket from a neighbor- 
ing house to cover and screen him from the cold 
land-breeze he will meet on his journey home ; 
and they then commit him to the care of Peter, 
the driver, who has silently enjoyed the frolic quite 
as much as themselves. Peter grins almost from 
ear to ear over the silver coins with which the 
laughing middies have liberally rewarded his serv- 
ices. They jump into the boat, and in a few 
moments report themselves on board their ship. 

The great man was full of indignation when, on 
the following morning, he became aware of what 
had befallen him through his ungrateful guests. 
For some time he was bent on seeking redress and 
having the youngsters punished. He was, how- 
ever, made to see that it would be wise to hush up 
the matter, as exposure would be sure to bring 
upon him a flood of ridicule, and make him the 
laughing-stock of the country. Besides, the mid- 
dies had only obeyed his own imperative com- 
mands. The midshipmen's frolic, however, came 



The Midshipmen's Frolic. 269 

to be widely known and talked about. Some spoke 
of " poetic justice " when they remembered the 
case of Damsel, that was so prominent a few 
months before ; and others regarded it as a u right- 
eous retribution," when they heard how the mid- 
dies, in their thoughtless mischief, had treated the 
drunken slaveholder in a way so much resembling, 
in some respects, his own cruel treatment of his 
unfortunate slave. 



270 Romance Without Fiction. 



XIV. 

Benjie and Juno. 

Get up, you mulo, let's be goin 1 , 

Let's be scratchin' ob de grabble ; 
De postman's horn he long done blowin 1 , 

And we'se a good long way to trabble. — Negro Song. 



<^. r 



r T was several years before the evils of British 
j|f colonial slavery were done away, that a travel- 
er on horseback was leisurely pursuing his way 
along the main road toward one of the seaport 
towns on the north side of Jamaica. It was dur- 
ing the forenoon, when the cool, refreshing sea- 
breeze had come down, modifying the fierce heat 
of a tropical sun, and dissipating the languor caused 
by the overpowering sultriness that had prevailed 
two or three hours before. A few miles back on the 
road he had traversed, a negro, mounted on a mule, 
and leading another of those animals laden with 
packages carefully covered up w T ith tarpaulins, had 
passed him, traveling at the rate of some five or six 
miles an hour. At very short intervals, as he urged 
his mules onward with whip and spur, the negro rider 
blew out loud notes from the cow's horn swinging 
round his neck. Thus he announced the arrival of 
the express post, and conveyed to the planters on 
the estates, and the residents of the villages near 
which he passed, the gratifying intelligence that 



Benjie and yuno. 271 

the monthly mail packet from England had arrived 
at Port Royal, and their letters and newspapers 
from home were now traveling to the usual post 
town, whither they might send and obtain them. 

Several negro boys mounted on mules, with 
leather bags strapped across their shoulders, had 
also ridden past him, hastening to the post-office, 
and riding, as negro boys love to ride, with head- 
long speed. At a turn of the road, as he ambled 
slowly on his way, the traveler came up with one 
of these sable equestrians, engaged in active strife 
with the animal he bestrode. Mulo had all at 
once, after bringing her rider on swiftly and pleas- 
antly for several miles, suddenly lapsed into one 
of those sullen, obstinate moods. in which that de- 
scription of animals — at least in the West Indies — 
is very prone to indulge, and in the most express- 
ive manner of which she was capable entered a 
caveat against the further prosecution of the jour- 
ney. She cared nothing whether the master on 
whose service she had been dispatched obtained 
his packet letters in due time or not. Not so with 
her rider, a sharp-looking lad, with face as black 
as coal, and teeth outrivaling ivory in their brill- 
iant whiteness, and who appeared to be not more 
than nine or ten years of age at most. He knew 
very well that to return without busha's (over- 
seer's) letters would bring upon him the fierce 
wrath of that formidable and important function- 
ary, and entail upon him a severe castigation. 
He was therefore by no means disposed to give in 
to the mulishness of Miss Juno. 



272 Romance Without Fiction. 

When the traveler came up the contest was at 
its height, and he waited to see the issue. The 
lad was making good use of the single spur that 
adorned one of his naked heels, and vigorously 
applying the tamarind switch, which was made to 
do duty for a riding whip, to the sides and neck of 
his steed, grinning all the time with perfect good 
humor, as if he enjoyed the sport, and carrying on 
an animated conversation with the animal, as if 
she understood every word that he addressed to 
her. But the more he flogged and spurred and 
chattered, the more energetically did mulo protest 
against proceeding in the required direction. 
Taking the bit between her teeth, she ran to the 
right hand, rubbing her rider's foot against the 
wall. Then she sidled to the left, tearing the 
lad's clothes and scratching his flesh in the log- 
wood fence that bounded the road on that side. 
She ran backward, she whirled herself round and 
round in numerous circles, like a teetotum, and, in 
reply to the applications of whip and spur, threw 
her heels into the air, as if bent on pitching her 
rider forward -out of the saddle. She would do 
any thing but go forward. She would go in any 
direction but the right one. The lad kept his seat 
and his temper admirably throughout the length- 
ened contest, while the traveler looked on and 
greatly enjoyed the scene, both mule and rider 
being too much occupied to take any notice of 
him. 

At length a truce was called. The negro dis- 
continued the use of the switch, and the mule 



Benjie and yuno. 273 

ceased her gyrations, but with her fore feet firmly 
planted upon the earth in such a manner as seemed 
to say, " I am determined not to go on." Placing 
his switch under his arm, the boy, still occupying 
the saddle, proceeded to hold a colloquy with the 
rebellious animal. " So, Miss Juno, you no want 
to carry me to de Bay to fetch busha's letters from 
de post-office ? " The mule gave a snort, as if to 
say, " That is assuredly my unalterable determina- 
tion/' "Berry well, Miss Juno, den we raus' see." 

After a moment's hesitation, during which he 
was apparently thinking over the best means of 
escaping from the awkward dilemma in which 
Juno had placed him by her obstinacy, address- 
ing himself to the mule, he said, " You no go, eh ? 
Now, Miss Juno, me bet you one fippenny me 
make you go ! " The mule gave a snort, probably 
of defiance, but which the boy chose to interpret 
as the signal of acquiescence. " Berry well, you 
say done. Me see now wedder me no make you 
go, and carry me to de Bay. You 'top here one 
little piece." 

He then threw himself from the saddle, and 
pulling the rein over the animal's head, proceeded 
to make it fast to one of the logwood bushes close 
at hand. This done, he went to a narrow stream 
of water that ran across the road at a little dis- 
tance. There he filled his pocket with a number 
of clean pebbles from the bed of the stream, and 
then he went to a neighboring clump of bushes, 
from which he pulled out several strong green 
withs, and 'returned to the mule, who received 



274 Romance Without Fiction. 

him with a defiant snort. " Now, Miss Juno," he 
said, showing his glittering teeth, " me see who 
sail win de bet." He then filled up both ears 
of the mule with the pebbles he had brought from 
the brook, and tied them close with the withs 
he had procured for the purpose. " Now, Juno," 
he triumphantly exclaimed as he gathered up the 
reins and vaulted nimbly into the saddle, " we see 
who is de massa, Juno or Benjie." Giving her 
two or three touches with the spur, Juno began 
sidling in the wrong direction, evidently as much 
determined as ever to be fractious, and to go any 
way but the right one. But astonished at the 
strange thundering noise in her ears caused by 
the grating and rattling of the pebbles, and not 
knowing at all what to make of it, she threw her 
heels high in the air two or three times and fairly 
gave up the contest, starting off at full gallop, with 
little Benjie grinning from ear to ear, and almost 
frantic with delight that he had conquered the 
obstinacy of Juno and gained his bet. 

The traveler slowly continued his journey in 
the same direction, laughing heartily at this queer 
scene between Benjie and Juno, and greatly 
amused with the clever expedient of the negro 
lad to subdue the stubbornness of Mulo. After a 
short ride he arrived at the little town, where, 
after stabling his horse, he recognized little Ben- 
jie, occupied with other lads who had come on a 
similar errand in a game of marbles, caring very 
little about the anxiety of their respective masters 
to get their packet letters. 



Benjie and Juno. 275 

Curious to know the result of the little inter- 
lude he had witnessed, he beckoned Benjie, as 
soon as he could arrest his attention, to come to 
him. But Benjie, too much occupied with the 
business in hand during his contest with Juno to 
attend to any thing else, had scarcely noticed the 
rider, who was all the time looking on. Not rec- 
ognizing the stranger, he shrank from his approach, 
as if somewhat dubious concerning the traveler's 
intentions. Instead of coming forward when he 
beckoned to him, Benjie sidled off, and seemed 
very much disposed to take to his heels. " I have 
no wish to harm you, my boy," said the traveler ; 
" I only wish to ask you a question about Juno, 
and give you a fippenny, it may be, if you give me 
a proper answer. " 

The prospect of a donation banished the boy's 
fears, and he came forward as requested. " I want 
to ask you whether Juno gave you any more 
trouble after you put the pebbles in her ears ? " 
" How massa know 'bou.t Juno and de pebbles ? " 
inquired the boy, with a blank expression of coun- 
tenance. "01 was close by, and saw and heard 
all while you were contending with the mule." 
" But massa no tell busha 'bout de stones me put 
in him ear ? " " No, I wont say any thing at all to 
busha. But I want to know about the bet." 
The little fellow's face resumed all the brightness 
which a momentary apprehension had banished 
as a vision of the angry overseer had flitted before 
his mind, and again showing his white teeth, he 
replied, " Me win de bet fair, massa." " Well, but 

18 " 



2/6 Romance Without Fiction. 

now you have won it, how can Juno pay you the 
fippenny ? That is what I want you to tell me." 
" Me make him pay bery well, massa." " But 
how ? that is what I am curious to understand." 
11 Massa no tell busha if me tell massa ? " " No, 
busha will never know any thing about it from 
me." "Well, den, you see, massa," his bright 
black eye twinkling with an expression of roguish 
cunning, " busha gib' me one tenpenny (sixpence) 
to buy grass for Juno ; me buy one fippenny grass 
for Juno, and toder fippenny buy bread for Benjie. 
Dat way Juno pay him bet." 

The traveler handed to him the coin by which 
he had lured him into the conversation, and little 
Benjie hastened to rejoin his companions, triumph- 
antly exhibiting his gains, and boisterously jubi- 
lant over the stranger's liberality. 



Driving Away the Rooks. 277 



XV. 

Driving Away the Rooks. 

The sun of justice may withdraw his beams 
Awhile from earthly ken. and sit concealed 
In dark recess, pavilioned round with clouds ; 
Yet let not guilt presumptuous rear her crest, 
Nor virtue droop despondent ; soon these clouds 
Seeming to eclipse, will brighten into day, 
And in majestic splendor he will rise 
With healing and with terror on his wings. — Bally. 



<£± 



U 2TL^ y° u wou ^ S et r id °f the rooks you must 
M. destroy their nests." Such is the text and 
conclusion of a violent and inflammatory 
address, delivered to a large assembly of planters 
and slaveholders in the court-house of the parish 
of St. Ann, on the north side of Jamaica. They 
are met together to uphold the tottering system of 
slavery, and to consult on the best means of get- 
ting rid of missionary laborers from the colony. 
Under the restraints imposed upon them by the 
instructions they have received from the mission- 
ary authorities at home, these servants of Christ 
take no part in the discussions on the slavery 
question, which are now so actively carried on 
both in England and the colonies ; yet the influ- 
ence they exert in preaching the Word of Life, and 
giving instruction to the slaves, is rapidly under- 
mining the system that makes man the property of 



278 Romance Without Fiction. 

his fellow-man, and degrades him to the condition 
of a chattel. 

There has been a wide-spread insurrection 
among the slaves in a neighboring district of the 
island. The favorite slave of a respectable family 
conceived the idea of effecting the liberation of 
the three hundred and fifty thousand of his race 
held in bondage within those shores. He had 
himself never felt the extreme bitterness of the 
condition of a slave, for he had never been sub- 
ject to the harassing, wasting toil of the cane 
field, or the brutal, sanguinary cruelty which fell 
to the lot of many around him. He was born to 
an inheritance of slavery, because he was guilty of 
the crime of having a slave mother. She was, 
however, a favorite domestic in her master's 
household, and her lively boy, black as polished 
jet, became the pet and plaything of the family, 
bearing his owner's name, and treated with as 
much indulgence as any of the troop of blooming 
white girls whose sports he shared on almost equal 
terms. As he grew up to manhood the same kindly 
treatment was continued to him, and his master 
had him taught a trade, by which he might earn ? 
without drudgery, the means of living and of com- 
fort, for he was one of the few slave-owners pos- 
sessing courage to disregard the selfish policy of 
the slaveholding class, which forbade, in all its 
degrees, the culture of a slave mind. 

Samuel Sharpe had been taught to read, and he 
not only possessed a form which might have served 
a sculptor as a model of manly grace and beauty, 



Driving Azvay the Rooks. 279 

but he exhibited mental powers of no common 
order, and, as a member of the Baptist communion, 
had obtained a considerable knowledge of holy- 
Scripture. Thougk experiencing none of the cru- 
elty so often practiced upon those in bondage, 
he felt the degradation and.wrong of being a slave, 
held as the property of another man, and liable, 
like a horse, to be sold and bought. He read the 
newspapers, and became acquainted with the dis- 
cussions going on in the mother country regarding 
the abolition of slavery, and the efforts put forth 
by the Churches of Britain to rid the nation of the 
guilt and shame of upholding such a system. He 
heard at his master's table, as well as at numerous 
public meetings which were held all over the isl- 
and, the fierce denunciations of the slaveholding 
fraternity against those who were making vigorous 
efforts to deprive them of their property in the 
bodies and souls of their fellow-creatures ; and 
he listened with swelling heart to the avowal of 
their determination to resist the parent Govern- 
ment in this matter, and to transfer the island to 
the American States, in order to secure the per- 
petuation of the slave system. He therefore re- 
solved to strike a blow for the freedom of his 
race. 

With consummate skill and secrecy Sharpe laid 
his plans and chose his companions in the under- 
taking, and at Christmas, 1831, the whole of the 
western part of the island was panic-stricken by 
a wide-spread insurrection among the slaves. 
Sharpe's plan was simply passive resistance, with- 



28o Romance Without Fiction. 

out injury to life or property. " Bucra (the negro 
designation for a white man) " may kill some of 
us," he said, addressing a meeting of the slaves 
held in secret, " and I for one* am willing to die 
for freedom ; but dey cannot kill us all, and slav- 
ery will be done away." 

The insurrection was suppressed with all the hor- 
rible atrocities which distinguish the saturnalia of 
martial law. Sharpe, with many hundreds besides, 
perished on the gallows ; the land was drenched 
with blood, and order was at length restored. 
But the blow for freedom had been struck. The 
plan laid down by Sharpe was not carried out, but 
the result he aimed at was achieved. That insur- 
rection and the events that followed gave the 
death-blow to the system, for it demonstrated 
that it could not be sustained except at the cost 
of much blood. Before two years had passed 
away the decree of the imperial Government had 
gone forth that British colonial slavery should 
cease to exist, and this, the dark stain on the na- 
tional escutcheon, be wiped out forever. 

Hundreds upon hundreds of slaughtered 
negroes slumber in their -bloody graves; and the 
bones of many others, left unburied and cleaned 
by the rapacity of the John-Crow vulture, are 
bleaching under the fierce rays of a tropical sun, 
when the meeting takes place to which reference 
has been made. With few exceptions those who 
compose it are fresh and red-handed from the scene 
of slaughter. In this part of the colony planters 
and slaveholders have, for several years, distin- 



Driving Away the Rooks. 281 

guished themselves in the persecution of mission- 
ary teachers ; and under the influence of the 
rector of the parish, who has acquired an unenvi- 
able notoriety for cruelty to his own and other 
men's slaves, the missionaries and their Churches 
have been assailed with the fiercest opposition. 
Consigned one after another to a loathsome dungeon 
reeking with unwholesome miasma, one missionary 
has already sunk into the grave, his young life cut 
short by persecution ; and another has been com- 
pelled to seek the restoration of his health, 
broken down by the same cause, across^ the sea. 
It is no difficult matter, therefore, for a vicious 
press to induce the planters in this neighborhood 
to believe and act upon the improbable assumption 
that the missionaries have been the instigators of 
the negro insurrection, and that they are the con- 
cealed agents of the Antislavery Society in En- 
gland. Day after day the columns of certain 
newspapers teem with abuse of the missionaries. 
The planters are urged to deeds of violence, and 
called upon to unite for the purpose of destroying 
all missionary institutions, and driving every mis- 
sionary teacher from the land. Powerfully 
wrought upon by such representations, and with 
such views and purposes filling their minds, these 
men have come together. 

More than one violent harangue has been ad- 
dressed to the meeting ; and by one man especially, 
whose standing in the parish has given him a con- 
siderable degree of influence, the British Govern- 
ment and the British Churches, the Antislavery 



282 Romance Without Fiction. 

Society, Wilberforce, Buxton, Brougham, Lushing- 
ton, and, above all, the missionaries, have been 
denounced as the enemies of the colony in strains 
of unmeasured vituperation, as leagued together 
to rob the poor injured West India planter of his 
property and his rights. The speaker being a 
man of intelligence and of some intellectual cul- 
ture, and one whose oratorical powers, of no mean 
order, have been frequently exercised in the local 
Parliament, the effect of his address has been pow- 
erful ; and the passions and prejudices of his 
hearers being wrought up to a high degree of ex- 
citement, they are ready for any lawless procedure 
that will lessen the power of their opponents, or 
tend to the security of the cherished system of 
slavery. 

He is followed by one whom, if we look only at 
the office he fills, we should hardly expect to see 
in an assembly called together for such a purpose ; 
for he is the rector of the parish, a minister of the 
Gospel of peace and love. But, alas ! he is a 
slaveholder himself, and that not of the mildest 
type. His name has only lately resounded from a 
thousand platforms in Great Britain in connection 
w T ith a case of flagrant maltreatment of a female 
slave, stirring up feelings of horror and indigna- 
tion in all who heard it. He is a man of learning, 
and of more than ordinary intellectual power ; 
but, debased by contact with slavery, his sense of 
right and justice has been perverted, and he has 
become a panderer to the slaveholding interest, 
and the defender of their unholy claims. His 



Driving Away the Rooks. 283 

talents, worthy of abetter cause, are prostituted to 
the advocacy of oppression, and to the utterance 
of libels upon the innocent and the good, which 
brings down upon him the ban of the superior 
courts both of law and equity in the mother coun- 
try. Perhaps it may be that those who fall from 
the greatest height sink to the lowest depth, as a 
simple matter of cause and effect. But, however 
that may be; certain it is that in all that assembly 
there is not one who has manifested such enven- 
omed bitterness against missionary teachers, or 
has been so active and violent in opposing their 
labors among the slaves, as himself; and beyond 
doubt the persecution of these men of God, and 
of the slave members of their Churches, some of 
whom have been done to death by cruel treatment, 
has been mainly, if not entirely, owing to the 
malign influence exercised by him. It is not, 
therefore, a matter of surprise when, rising from 
his seat, he follows in the train of foregoing 
speakers, and denounces the missionaries as the 
most dangerous enemies of the country, and the 
fomenters of rebellion among the slaves ; calling 
upon the excited, eager mass of persons around 
him to be up and doing, and save the country 
from the fate impending over it, by driving out 
the men who, to use his words, " are tampering 
with and corrupting our slaves." He concludes 
an earnest inflammatory appeal, which has aroused 
the worst passions of his hearers to almost uncon- 
trollable violence, by borrowing the sentiment of 
John Knox, uttered by him concerning the over- 



284 Romance Without Fiction. 

throw of the monastic institutions. " The worst 
and most dangerous of your enemies," he says, 
" are among you ; they are in your midst ; they 
are in daily intercourse with your slaves, tamper- 
ing with and corrupting them. For the sake of 
all that is sacred and dear to you ; for the sake 
of your families and your property, you must drive 
them from your midst : you must get rid of them. 
And let me give you a hint ; a word to the wise is 
sufficient : ' If you would get rid of the rooks you 
must destroy their nests ! ' " 

The effect of this sinister advice, given by one 
who professes to be a minister of Christ and a 
preacher of the ever blessed Gospel, soon becomes 
manifest. It has entered into not unwilling ears ; 
and the corrupt newspapers in the interest of the 
planters are speedily found relating, in exulting 
strains, the exploits of the St. Ann's heroes, who, 
after doing their part in putting down the insur- 
rection of the slaves, are destroying " those dens 
of sedition, the missionary chapels," all over the 
north-west part of the island. 

For several weeks scarcely a day passes that 
there is not some account of a Christian sanctuary 
burned to ashes, or leveled with the ground, by the 
hands of sacrilegious violence. The newspapers 
also abound with boastful letters from the actors 
themselves, who trumpet their own achieve- 
ments; in depriving the poor slaves of the religious 
instruction which constitutes the only alleviation 
of their wretched and hopeless condition, as if 
they had accomplished some laudable undertaking 



Driving Away the Rooks. 285 

of which they might justly be proud. A man 
named Innis has gone in open day to the chapel at 
Ebenezer, in the mountains of St. Ann, and, apply- 
ing a firebrand to a heap of dry leaves and wood 
collected for the purpose underneath the building, 
has burned it down, and there is not a post or rafter 
of it left. At Falmouth, a body of the St. Ann's 
planters, assisted by others of the planting fraternity 
in the neighborhood, and aided by the loan of 
ropes and blocks from the sugar ships in the har- 
bor, have pulled down the Wesleyan and the 
Baptist chapels in the town. As both were sub- 
stantial erections, it has been an undertaking of 
great toil and difficulty, and has occupied several 
days to effect it ; but the work has proceeded un- 
checked by the local authorities, and the chapels 
and all other buildings associated with them are 
now heaps of ruins. The chief merit of this good 
work is claimed by and conceded to the men from 
St. Ann's, who began the demolition, and have 
toiled at it without intermission, except for neces- 
sary rest, until its completion. At Ocho .Rios a 
planter, named Taylor, heads the ruffianly band 
who destroy the missionary sanctuaries in that 
place. And so it goes on from week to w r eek, the 
St. Ann's planters every-where taking the lead, 
in accordance with the advice given to them by 
the rector, until eighteen mission sanctuaries, de- 
voted chiefly to the religious instruction of the 
slaves and the neglected free colored population, 
have been destroyed by violence, together with 
several missionary residences and other buildings. 



286 Romance Without Fiction. 

It is the proud boast, reiterated again and again in 
the newspapers by the " St. Ann's heroes," that 
" all along a range of coast extending over seventy 
or eighty miles, and stretching far into the interior, 
they have not left a single sedition shop standing, 
nor a house in which the sedition mongers can 
find shelter." 

The friends of slavery in other parts of the 
island are strongly urged, by a partisan press, to 
imitate " the noble example " of the " St. Ann's 
planters," until some of the editors are reminded, 
by those who are friendly to the missionaries, and 
regard with indignation what has been done on the 
north side of the island, that there is a possibility 
of the colored people being stirred up to retaliate ; 
and in such a case, it is intimated, the newspapers 
and editors that have labored to bring about such 
results will hot be forgotten. This suffices to pro- 
duce a remarkable change in the tone of these 
papers. The inflammatory appeals already put 
forth have produced an effect, and there are not 
wanting, on the south side of the island, those who 
w r ould gladly respond to them, and emulate the 
example of the St. Ann's chapel-destroyers, were 
it safe to do so. But it is soon discovered that 
such proceedings are not likely to pass with the 
impunity which has marked their progress in the 
north. There the free colored population are few, 
and thinly scattered, and could have no hope of 
making head against the overwhelming influence 
and numbers of the planters. But in and around 
the city of Kingston there is a formidable body of 



Driving Away the Rooks. 287 

intelligent colored and black men, all of them 
free, and many of them wealthy. These owe much 
to the labors of Christian missionaries, and hold 
them in the highest esteem. They read with 
strong feelings of indignation the accounts which 
issue from the press from day to day concerning 
the demolition of Christian sanctuaries, and avow 
their determination to prevent a repetition of the 
sacrilege on their side of the island. They also 
proceed to such demonstrations for the protection 
of the chapels as prove that they are in earnest, 
and make it manifest that civil war will be the re- 
sult if any such deeds of violence are attempted 
as those which the Government has countenanced, 
or at least tolerated, without a single effort to re- 
buke them, in St. Ann's and Trelawny. Induced 
by the apathy of the authorities to combine in 
large numbers for the protection of property, they 
refuse to disband, until the authorities pledge 
themselves to protect all missionary property 
from unlawful violence. 

The poor weak man, boasting a title of Irish 
nobility, who is intrusted with the administration 
of the Government, is either too listless to inter- 
fere, or too much influenced by a cowardly fear of 
the planters to lift a hand in discouragement of the 
deeds of violence which day after day form the 
principal topic of the island newspapers. His 
sympathies are no doubt with the wrong-doers. 
For weeks these violent and unlawful doings go 
on with his full knowledge of all the details ; yet 
not a word proceeds from the chief magistrate of 



288 Romance Without Fiction. 

the land to forbid them, until civil war becomes 
imminent, and a collision of classes is brought on 
which, should it once break into open violence, is 
likely to end in bloodshed, and perhaps in a signal 
revenge of the injuries and degradations heaped 
upon the black and colored race by the dominant 
class. This threatening aspect of affairs at length 
moves the authorities to interfere, and the assur- 
ance is given that all missionary property shall 
be protected from further damage. Thus a great 
danger is averted. 

The feeling manifested on the south side of the 
island among the free black and colored people, 
who constitute the chief strength of the island 
militia, is not without effect elsewhere. In some 
of the principal towns in the northwest the chapel- 
destroyers find themselves confronted by men 
whom it may be dangerous to provoke. An agent 
from St. Ann's, one of the wealthy planters of the 
parish, was endeavoring to stir up several persons 
of his own class to destroy a Christian sanctuary 
at Montego Bay, which stood near the house in 
which he was lodging. With much self-compla- 
cency he was pointing out to them how it might 
be done, and how the planters had acted in the 
district from which he came. A colored man who 
had listened to him suddenly stepped up, and, 
tapping him on the shoulder, directed his attention 
to a double-barreled gun standing in a corner of 
the room. " Mr. M., do you see that gun ? It 
has a brace of balls in it. There are more all 
around the neighborhood prepared for the same 



Driving Away the Rooks. 289 

purpose and loaded. There are persons on the 
lookout night and day, as I am doing ; and I can 
tell you that the man who approaches that build- 
ing to lay violent hands upon it, will have an 
ounce of lead in his brain before he is aware. If 
you are wise you will speedily clear out from 
this neighborhood." The planter returned home 
without loss of time, and the evil was arrested 
in that locality. 

The hostility to the missionaries and their 
labors is, however, by no means modified among 
the dominant class. Under the influence of the 
rector of St. Ann, who instigated the chapel-de- 
stroyers to their evil work, and who exults abun- 
dantly in what they have accomplished, a wide- 
spread combination is formed under the designation 
of the "Colonial Church Union." The avowed 
objects of this association are, to carry on a 
crusade against all missionary agents, to drive 
them from the island", and so conserve the interests 
of the slave institution. Many willingly, and some 
through fear, give in their adhesion to the perse- 
cuting league — for a complete system of terrorism 
has been established — until all the planters, and 
nearly all the white men of the colony, are in- 
cluded in this formidable " union." Not a few 
missionaries are consigned to loathsome prisons 
by planter magistrates in order to silence them ; 
and some, treated with brutal violence by planter 
mobs, have only escaped with life through the 
prompt interposition of free black and colored 
men ; blood having been shed, and life sacrificed, 



290 Romance Without Fiction. 

on these occasions. One planter, who had joined 
with a mob to break into the dwelling of a mission- 
ary, and put him to death after a barbarous fashion, 
paid the penalty of his folly with his life. The 
assailing party were driven back by the vigorous 
arms of a few colored men, when this unfortunate 
man fell through mistake, in the partial darkness, 
into the hands of his own party, who, supposing 
that they had got the missionary into their power, 
dealt upon him such severe blows as to fracture 
his skull before they discovered their mistake. 
After he had lingered for some time in great suf- 
fering, never able to resume his employment, the 
wounds he had received. brought him prematurely 
to the grave, his dying hours being cheered by 
the prayers and counsels of one % of the missionaries 
whom he had sought to destroy. 

For some months the Colonial Church Union 
rules the colony, and all other authority is virtually 
superseded. The magistrates are compelled to 
do its bidding, and use their authority according 
to its designs ; every jury box in the land is under 
its control ; and the feeble governor, and the offi- 
cers of the Government, all yield a willing, or un- 
willing, submission to its dictates. In some parts 
of the island, where the missionary sanctuaries 
have been left standing through fear of collision 
with the free black and colored men, the magis- 
trates, acting under instructions from the Colonial 
Union, have closed them and suspended religious 
services, scattering the congregation and imprison- 
ing the minister. The missionaries, threatened 



Driving Away the Rooks. 291 

with violence, or brutally assailed by fierce mobs, 
who break into their house at night, apply to the 
magistrates for the protection and redress to which, 
as British subjects, they are entitled, but are 
told, "We dare not interfere." They then state 
their grievances to the governor, as the chief mag- 
istrate and representative of the sovereign, and 
are informed by him, " I cannot help you. You 
must, if you are aggrieved, apply to the courts of 
justice." They l^iow well that this will be in 
vain, yet they carry their complaints before the 
courts through every obstruction which official 
hostility can interpose, producing abundant wit- 
nesses both to prove their grievances and to iden- 
tify the aggressors. But the grand juries are 
composed of the men who are leagued together in 
the Colonial Church Union for the purpose of 
wronging them, and, to a man, stand pledged to 
obey the behests of the conspirators who have 
superseded the laws and usurped the government 
of the colony. The consequence is that every 
bill of indictment is ignored ; and the injured 
missionaries, who see their places of worship lying 
in ruins, and all their rights ruthlessly trampled 
down, are made to feel that, in a British colony, 
under the British flag, and under a British gover- 
nor, there is for them no law. They can look for 
protection and redress only to " the righteous 
Lord who loveth righteousness." 

Such a state of things may not, however, long con- 
sist with the honor of the British crown, nor will the 

Churches of the mother country endure in silence 

19 



2Q2 Romance Without Fiction. 

this triumph of clerical and planter intolerance. 
The curse and shame of slavery begins now to be 
felt by British Christians as it has never been felt 
before. The nation wakes up to the enormity of 
the evil. A storm of indignation is aroused against 
slavery and the slaveholders such as never swept 
over the country at any former period. The Brit- 
ish Government — the most potent in the world — 
is constrained to bow before it, and the law for 
abolishing British slavery, carried by triumphant 
majorities both of Lords and Commons, is re- 
corded on the statute book. The world beholds 
the spectacle, unparalleled in history, of a repent- 
ant nation voluntarily giving back from its treas- 
ury some of the gains of wrong-doing, letting the 
oppressed go free, and setting a noble example of 
justice and reparation to the world by washing its 
hands from all further participation in a cruel sys- 
tem that originated in the dark days of barbarism 
and religious error. 

Some months before the act abolishing slavery 
passes through Parliament the feeble man who 
occupies the seat of power at the king's house is 
recalled. A nobleman of different character takes 
his place, w r ho is selected as well qualified to in- 
itiate the new era of freedom about to commence, 
and the reign of anarchy soon passes away. The 
Earl of Mulgrave, on his arrival, finds the island 
pros rate at the feet of the Colonial Church Union, 
planter mobs superseding by lawless violence the 
administration of law and justice, and thousands 
of the people arbitrarily deprived of religious 



Driving Away the Rooks. 293 



observations and acquaint himself with the condi- 
tion of public affairs, and then he begins to act. A 
proclamation is published denouncing the Colonial 
Church Union as an unlawful conspiracy against 
the rights and liberties of British subjects, and 
calling upon all who hold commissions, either 
civil or military, under the crown, to detach 
themselves from the illegal combination under 
penalty of his majesty's displeasure. This docu- 
ment, posted in public places, and advertised in 
the newspapers, creates great consternation among 
the conspirators, while it gives much joy to the 
oppressed. But the whole planter community is 
on foot to resist such " a tyrannical i7iterfere?ice 
with their rights as colonists." "Is not the island 
ours ? Shall we not do what we will with our 
own ? Shall it be endured that these seditious 
corrupters of our slaves shall be protected by the 
Government in interfering with our property ? " 
Meeting after meeting is held, and the conduct of 
the Government is denounced by the colonial 
Church orators with much fierce and fiery decla- 
mation, and the more robust adherents of the ex- 
ploded union, urged on by the St. Ann's rector, 
who has the address to keep himself out of sight 
in the matter, defy the governor, and pour con- 
tempt upon the royal proclamation. 

But the contest is of brief duration. With a 
promptitude and firmness contrasting strongly 
with the listlessness and reckless disregard of 
duty manifested by his predecessor, the noble 



294 Romance Without Fiction. 

earl presents himself at every post of danger. 
The men of violence more than once find them- 
selves, in the performance of their lawless doings, 
suddenly confronted by the governor, and see the 
chief magistrate in their midst when they believe 
him to be a hundred miles distant. By a policy 
as just as it is wise, and with a zeal honorable 
alike in its forbearance and in its courage, shrink- 
ing neither from fatigue nor from danger, his pur- 
pose is soon accomplished, Militia officers who 
refuse obedience to their captain-general are su- 
perseded, and find their commissions canceled; 
magistrates who daringly violate the law in their 
own persons are dismissed from the office they 
have abused and dishonored. In a few weeks the 
persecuting association melts away like snow in the 
sun, and peace and order are restored throughout 
the island, the forerunners of a day shortly to dawn 
upon these sunny isles, when liberty shall be pro- 
claimed to the captive, and the opening of the 
prison door to them that are bound. 

But the matter is not suffered to rest here. 
There is a book which says concerning those who 
" take counsel together, against the Lord, and 
against his anointed, saying, Let us break their 
bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us. 
He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh : the 
Lord shall have them in derision. Then shall he 
speak unto them in his wrath, and vex them in his 
sore displeasure. Yet have I set my king upon 
my holy hill of Zion. . . . Thou shalt break them 
with a rod of iron ; thou shalt dash them in pieces 



Driving Away the Rooks, 295 

like a potter's vessel." It is against him these 
men have conspired. It is the spread of his truth 
they are leagued together to oppose. It is against 
places consecrated to his worship and the preach- 
ing of his Gospel that they have dared to lift the 
hand of sacrilegious violence, and lay them even 
with the ground. It is to prevent the light of his 
word reaching the souls for whom Christ died, in 
order that they may shut them up in heathen 
darkness, and keep them groaning under the iron 
yoke of oppression. " And shall not the Lord 
visit for these things ? " Yea, assuredly, if there 
be any truth in the threatenings which his word 
records, and any meaning in the lessons of human 
history. It is a strife with God which these men 
have been carrying on, and " Woe unto him that 
striveth with his Maker," is the warning which the 
Bible proclaims, and history illustrates by a thou- 
sand impressive facts. They have evaded the 
penalties imposed by human laws upon wrong- 
doers, but they may not so easily elude the justice 
and power of him, the scepter of whose kingdom 
is a scepter of righteousness. Even in connec- 
tion with this life it may be seen in Jehovah's 
dealings with these men of violence, how "He or- 
daineth his arrows against the persecutors." 

In the same newspaper columns in which their 
sacrilegious exploits were blazoned forth in proud 
bravado to the world, the names of these evil- 
workers are to be inscribed as passing away from 
earth in rapid succession to appear before the just 
Judge of all the earth. General readers perceive 



296 Romance Without Fiction. 

little in these records beyond the ordinary course 
of earthly events, and the accidents which fre- 
quently checker with their shadows the every day 
history of human life. But those who know the 
association these men have had with the dark 
deeds of the past, and who are accustomed to 
consider the works of the Lord, and regard the 
operations of his hand, in the light shed upon 
them by divine revelation, see, in the tragic cir- 
cumstances attending the swift removal of so 
many of these persecutors from life, the fulfillment 
of the Divine word, " Though hand join in hand, 
the wicked shall not be unpunished." And as 
they drop in rapid succession into the grave, cut 
off by "accident" or by suicide, or otherwise borne 
swiftly from life in the midst of their days, even 
the surviving partakers in their evil deeds dis- 
cover something remarkable in it, so that one who 
had been prominent and active above many of his 
fellows, and who lived long enough to afford evi- 
dence that he repented of the evil, acknowledged, 
as he contemplated the mournful end of many of 
his associates, " The hand of the Lord is in this." 
And truly the hand of the Lord is in these oc- 
currences, however the skeptic or the worldling 
may curl his lip in haughty scorn and cry, " Fa- 
naticism ! " If it be true that a sparrow falleth 
not on the ground without our heavenly Father, 
these erring heirs of immortality are not swept 
away from life, with all their stupendous account- 
ability attaching to them, without his intervention. 
Nor is the manner of their removal from earth, 



Driving Away the Rooks. 297 

any more than the death itself, the result of mere 
chance or accident. It is the ordering of that 
Providence which with unerring wisdom controls 
with regard to every human being the issues of 
life. 

Mr. I. is a man who has been one of the most 
active in the demolition of Christian sanctuaries. 
He is the proprietor of a small property in the in- 
terior of St. Ann's, and one of those who listen 
with excited feelings to the sinister eloquence of 
the rector when, like Ahithophel, he urges upon his 
hearers counsel largely impregnated with the wis- 
dom of the old Serpent. None enters upon the 
unholy work with more active zeal than he. 
Among the first to lay violent hands upon a 
chapel distant from his own house, he labors with, 
untiring energy, pouring out abundant oaths and 
curses, until the building, which has only just 
been completed at considerable cost, is a ruin. 
In several other undertakings of a similar kind he 
is one of the most earnest workers, denouncing 
the missionaries with an intensity of bitterness 
and profusion of blasphemy and profanity quite 
characteristic of a Jamaica planter. Returning 
home he finds that a missionary sanctuary quietly 
hidden in the mountains, and not very distant 
from his own house, has not been destroyed. 
His hand it is that applies the torch and commits 
it to the flames, and the little place of worship, 
where many a toil-worn slave has received the 
only consolation his unhappy lot admitted of, dis- 
appears from the scene of rural beauty, of which 



298 Romance Without Fiction. 

it was the principal ornament. Only a few months 
elapse, and the announcement of his death appears 
in the newspapers. But it is not stated there, 
though it is a fact well known in the neighbor- 
hood, that the unhappy man, having become in- 
volved in difficulties, has sought to get rid of his 
troubles by suicide. The hand that was sacrile- 
giously raised to destroy the house of God has been 
lifted against his own life. He is found dead with 
his throat cut, the weapon with which he had 
committed the deed still clasped in his hand. 

Mr. T. is a planter, the overseer of a large sugar 
plantation in St. Ann's, a man of bold, daring char- 
acter, fearing neither God nor man, just fitted for 
such ungodly work as that marked out by the 
rector, and he enters upon it with all the enjoy- 
ment of which such a rough and turbulent nature 
is capable. No hand is more energetic than his 
in fixing and hauling ropes by which places sacred 
to the worship of God are pulled down and deso- 
lated. No shout rises higher than his as the flames 
burst forth which consume the missionary chapel 
or dwelling-house, and wherever any thing of the 
kind is going on he is sure to be there. He heads 
the party which destroys the mission station near- 
est to his own dwelling, affecting no concealment, 
and he continues at the congenial work until every 
building upon it has disappeared — the very mate- 
rials being carried off to be used elsewhere, a 
goodly portion of them falling into his own pos- 
session. Loud is the exultation of this man when, 
through a large district of country, not a " secta- 



Driving Away the Rooks. 299 

rian place of worship " is left standing ; louder still 
is his boasting joy when brother planters on the 
grand jury, disregarding all the evidence which 
clearly identifies him and his fellows as law break- 
ers and chapel-destroyers, and equally disregard- 
ing the solemn oath they had taken to do justice, 
ignore the bills of indictment, and shield the men 
of violence and blood from the penalties of the 
laws they have violated. A few months roll away, 
and the newspapers report " the sad accident" which 
has deprived the colony of this valuable member 
of the community. He is looking about a build- 
ing in course of erection on the plantation of 
which he is the overseer when he inadvertently 
sets his foot upon an old rusty nail pointing up 
from a piece of timber, Being a heavy man, it 
pierces through his boot and penetrates the flesh 
among the sinews of the foot. Disregarded as a 
trifling matter, no importance is attached to the 
apparently slight wound. But in a day or two 
there is inflammation, then follows gangrene, pro- 
ducing locked-jaw and death, The chapel-de- 
stroyer, in the very prime of lusty health and 
vigor, has dropped suddenly into the grave, to be 
followed very shortly by several others who were of 
the party he had led on to destroy a mission station, 
five of whom pass away to appear in the presence 
of the Just and Holy One, with the guilt of self- 
murder upon their souls. 

There is Mr. L. He has headed a party of ruf- 
fianly men in surrounding a missionary's dwelling, 
within whose wooden walls the missionary and his 



300 Romance Without Fiction. 

family were sleeping, and under cover of darkness 
they have riddled the peaceful habitation with 
musket balls, firing a succession of volleys into it, 
with the diabolical purpose of destroying the un- 
offending inmates when they had retired to rest. 
He also has been active in the demolition of 
Christian sanctuaries. His name, too, soon ap- 
pears in the records of mortality, for with the 
weapon he had used in tjie attempt to assassinate 
a peaceful family he scatters his own brains, and 
thus passes away from among the living. 

There is Mr. H., a minister of religion, and the 
rector of a large parish, who had not scrupled to 
take an active part in destroying mission chapels, 
and to enlarge his own library with the plunder of 
a missionary's study. He is a profligate and blas- 
phemer of the worst type. This man is swept to 
an early grave in a duel which he forces upon his 
most intimate friend. Foremost in deeds of vio- 
lence and persecution, he had plotted the secret 
murder of a missionary in the mere wantonness of 
a cruel disposition which delighted in shedding 
blood. He had made an open boast of " the ex- 
cellent fun it was to get a crack at a nigger, and 
see him toppled over with a bullet in his black 
carcass." He does not find that there is much 
fun in it when a bullet cut short his own wicked 
career before he has passed his prime, known only 
as a man in whom, notwithstanding the sacred 
office from which he derived his living, there was 
an utter abnegation of every good quality, and a 
fearful proficiency in whatever is debasing and vile. 



Diiving Away the Rooks, 301 

There is Mr. M., a wealthy proprietor, who has 
been a sufferer to a large extent by the negro in- 
surrection, all the valuable buildings of his plan- 
tation having been burned by the insurgent ne- 
groes. He perhaps has a better apology than 
many others for the deeds of violence and sacri- 
lege in which he has been induced to become an 
active participator, for he was led to believe the 
improbable story that the missionaries instigated 
the slaves to make that effort to seize their free- 
dom which has led to such sacrifice of life and 
property. He has been spending the day with a 
large circle of friends in trials of skill with rifles 
and pistols, and indulging freely in the use of 
beverages, of which there is never any scarcity 
when Jamaica planters congregate for any pur- 
pose. The whole party, animated and gay, are 
assembled in the drawing-room after dinner, dis- 
cussing the occurrences of the day, when a young 
man, who has accidentally joined the party, takes 
up from the table on which they were laid one 01 
the pistols which have contributed to the sport of 
the noisy revelers. Not aware that it is loaded, 
and little accustomed to such articles, while he 
clumsily examines it the pistol explodes. The 
fatal contents are lodged in the person of the 
owner of the mansion, inflicting a wound which in 
a few brief hours lays him low in death, making 
his blooming young wife a widow, and two or three 
little ones fatherless. 

There is Major C, the servile tool of dominant 
intolerance, who, at the bidding of a persecuting 



302 Romance Without Fiction. 

faction, has abused his authority as a magistrate 
to hinder and suppress the worship of God, send- 
ing missionaries to prison for preaching the truth, 
and acting as a leader in the destruction of houses 
of prayer. He also is singled out as an early ex- 
ample of retribution. He is returning as morning 
dawns from a gay party, where the night has been 
spent in dancing and dissipation, and the wine has 
circulated freely. Being less steady than usual in 
consequence of what he has imbibed through the 
night, he falls heavily against some stone steps 
that are in his path. No serious results are at 
first apprehended from the accident, as he is able 
to rise and pursue his walk. But internal injuries 
have been received, and before the day wanes to 
its close he has ceased to be numbered with the 
living. 

Mr. B. has his life prematurely brought to an 
end by restive mules overturning the vehicle in 
which he is traveling. Mr. M'C. is found dead in 
his bed with a ghastly wound in his throat, but 
whether inflicted by his own hand or by the hand 
of an assassin, cannot be determined. Mr. H., 
one of the most prominent and malignant, as he is 
one of the most influential, of all the persecuting 
faction, is smitten by the hand of death at his own 
festive board, surrounded by men of kindred spirit, 
and he retires from the hilarious assemblage he 
has been feasting only to stretch himself upon the 
couch from which he will never again rise in life. 
Mr. L. suddenly disappears from the aristocratic 
circle of which he has been for many years one of 



Driving Away the Rooks. 303 

the most influential members, and the fact soon 
transpires that he is a defaulter to a large amount 
in the public office he has filled, and public funds and 
private interests suffer largely from his betrayal of 
the trust confided to him. Reduced to poverty, 
and with a dishonored name, he sinks into de- 
spondency, and presumptuously opening for him- 
self a way to the unseen world, he is laid in a sui- 
cide's grave. 

So -does God's providence work. His hand is 
manifestly lifted up to vindicate and sustain his 
cause; and one after another, as " his arrows are 
ordained against the persecutors," the men of vio- 
lence disappear from life, furnishing most impres- 
sive illustrations of the words of the Psalmist : " I 
have seen the wicked in great power, and spread- 
ing himself like a green bay tree. Yet he passed 
away, and, lo, he was not : yea, I sought him, 
but he could not be found. . . . The transgressors 
shall be destroyed together : the end of the 
wicked shall be cutoff." Psalm xxxvii, 35-38. 

Several years have passed away, and a large 
number of those who were once banded together 
to break up missionary institutions, and drive mis- 
sionaries from the land, are slumbering in the 
dust, while some have seen the error of their ways, 
and look back with regret upon the deeds of 
violence and wrong into which they were led by 
following evil counsel. In several instances men 
of this class, admonished by the fate which has 
overtaken so many of their co-operators in an evil 
work, have contributed to rebuild the Christian 



304 Romance Without Fiction. 

sanctuaries they assisted to destroy. " Do you re- 
member having met with Mr. S. before ? " This 
inquiry is addressed to a missionary by a fellow- 
traveler as they are riding away from a sugar- 
plantation, whither they were driven for shelter by 
stress of weather the night before ; and where, as 
the bad weather continued, they have been com- 
pelled to pass the night, experiencing at the hands 
of the gentleman in charge of the property all 
possible kindness and hospitality. " No," the mis- 
sionary replies, " I am not aware that I have ever 
seen him before ; but certainly his attention to our 
comfort has been somewhat remarkable. I do not 
remember that I have ever experienced so much' 
kindness at the hands of a stranger." " You may 
not remember him, but he knows you very well. 
Do you remember when a mob of white men broke 
into your house at Falmouth and nearly succeeded 
in setting you on fire ? " " Yes, I shall not easily 
forget that." " Well, Mr. S. was one of that mob. 
He told me all about it after you had gone to bed. 
He recognized you the moment we rode into the 
estate, and expressed to me the pleasure it afforded 
him to have the opportunity of making some atone- 
ment for the past by receiving you as his guest. 
He was ashamed to speak of it to you ; but I have 
no doubt that he intended me to mention it, as he 
called me back, and begged me to repeat the invi- 
tation he gave you, whenever you pass this way, 
to make his house your home." 

Nor is this the only instance of repentant kindr 
ness shown to the same missionary by those who 



Driving Away the Rooks. 305 

took part in the outrage. The evil days are gone. 
The unholy and oppressive system which these 
deeds of violence were designed to support has 
been superseded by the intermediate institution, 
designed, by a well-meant but mistaken policy, to 
prepare the way for unrestricted freedom, and 
the* former things are passed away. After lying 
desolate for several years, while the missionary 
laborers have resumed their toil of mercy and love 
in tents or hired houses, and in some instances 
under the shade of the wide-spreading cedar or 
broad-leaf, the destroyed chapels are beginning to 
rise again in larger dimensions, and increased in 
number. Thousands flock to hear the word of life 
who never heard it before ; religious agencies are 
multiplied, and the persecutions of past years have 
resulted in giving an impulse to the cause of truth 
and religion in the land such as it never felt 
before. 

There is one of the persecutors remaining who 
in the evil days that are past occupied a large 
space in the public eye, and as yet gives no sign 
that he has come to a better state of mind. He 
was the chief of them all : the main-spring, origin- 
ating and controlling the whole movement on the 
part of the planter interest which has wrought 
such tragical results for the actors themselves, but 
has so signally failed in the object and purpose to 
which it was directed. There is the master mind, 
whose lofty powers were prostituted in planning 
malignant mischief for other hands to execute, 
and upon whom rests a large share of the responsi- 



306 Romance Without Fiction. 

bility attached to many a deed of persecuting 
violence and wrong, in connection with which he 
has not openly appeared. His were the lips that 
uttered inflammatory counsels, and urged upon the 
persecutors to get rid of the rooks by destroying 
their nests. Bitter thoughts have doubtless fre- 
quently occupied his mind when he has seen how 
completely all his subtle schemes have been 
blighted and brought to nought ; and that the bad 
system, founded in unrighteousness and blood, to 
which he linked his interest, and which he labored 
to uphold with zeal and talents worthy of a better 
cause, has crumbled to the dust. But in the se- 
clusion of his own pleasant parsonage he is almost 
forgotten, as an object which the swift progress 
of events has left far behind, and almost out of 
sight. There are some, however, who remember 
the important part he played in the scenes of which 
Jamaica has been the theater, who think of the 
terrible sufferings which persecuted slaves have 
endured at his instigation, and know how largely 
the razing or burning of Christian temples and the 
desolation of missionary houses have been the work 
of his active brain. When they look around and 
see the wondrous way in which retribution has 
been dealt out upon the minor actors in these evil 
works, and how the lightning-blast of the Divine 
displeasure has fallen upon them in rapid succes- 
sion, it seems to them one of those inexplicable 
mysteries of Providence which baffle all human 
comprehension that the head and chief of them 
all, the guiltiest and most bitter persecutor of the 



Driving Away the Rooks. 307 

whole, has been left unscathed. It may be that 
in this instance, as in the case of the chief of the 
persecutors in other days, the Divine Wisdom has 
purposes of mercy which transcend all human 
thought. Now, as then, it may be that it is in His de- 
signs to make him a chosen vessel, an instrument of 
good to others. But it is a matter which belongs 
to God alone, and none may without presumption 
say concerning it, " What doest Thou ? " 

The time comes when the mystery is solved, 
and a stupendous catastrophe, that makes all ears 
tingle throughout the length and breadth of the 
land, proclaims as with a trumpet voice that, al- 
though evil-doers are endured with much long- 
suffering, they are not forgotten of God. 

One after another many of those who followed 
his pernicious counsels have dropped into the 
dust, and perhaps with modified and chastened 
feelings he may have pondered the tragic circum- 
stances which clouded their latter end. But, how- 
ever this may be, no outward indications of it have 
appeared that human eyes could read, until the 
tragedy occurs that lays all his pride in the dust, 
and forces from him the acknowledgment that the 
hand of God has been lifted against him in visita- 
tion of his sins. 

His dwelling is beautifully situated upon a 
lower range of the lofty hills which rise abruptly, 
one height above another, at the bay named by 
-Columbus Santa Gloria, and looking down upon 
the rock-inclosed harbor where he suffered ship- 
wreck. A little to the right is the narrow cove in 

20 



308 Romance Without Fiction. 

which his ships lay when the celebrated navigator, 
in his extremity for want of supplies, practiced 
upon the kind-hearted, ignorant aborigines, pro- 
voked by the treacherous aud cruel conduct of the 
Spaniards to leave the strangers to their own re- 
sources, that memorable deceit concerning the 
eclipse of their favorite planet, the moon, by 
which he induced them to yield a ready compliance 
with all his demands. The scene whereon the 
eye rests from the hill upon which that residence 
is situated is grand and beautiful. To the east 
stretches for several miles a plain, covered with 
the luxuriant growth of the sugar-cane, and dotted 
with the sugar-works of several plantations. On 
the hills which bound the plain, to the west and 
south, are to be seen the comfortable mansions of 
the more wealthy proprietors, beautifully embow- 
ered in groves of cedar or the fragrant pimento 
trees, whose rich dark green foliage contrast more 
agreeably to the eye with the lighter and more 
brilliant green of the guinea-grass pastures. The 
landscape is enlivened and adorned with groves or 
avenues of cocoa-nut or cabbage palms, their 
leaves waving like majestic plumes in the breeze, 
and diversified occasionally with specimens of the 
giant ceiba or cotton tree, whose massive wide- 
spreading branches afford a grateful shelter to the 
panting cattle from the fervid rays of the vertical 
sun. Looking northward, and stretching east and 
west as far as the eye can reach, there is the broad, 
■ deep channel, across which, although the distance 
is not less than from ninety to one hundred miles, 



Driving Away the Rooks. 309 

through the clear pellucid atmosphere of these 
tropical regions, may often be seen before sunrise 
and near sunset the towering peaks of the mount- 
ains of Cuba, a land still cursed with the worst 
horrors of slavery, and containing more than six 
hundred thousand human beings held in bondage, 
and doomed to a life of hopeless, unrequited toil. 
To the westward the land scene is limited by the 
hills rising in some places almost abruptly near 
the shore, on which lie a succession of valuable 
sugar estates extending to Runaway Bay— so desig- 
nated from the fact that Don Sasi, the last Spanish 
commander who opposed the English in taking 
possession of the island, made his escape from this 
spot in a canoe, leaving the party he commanded 
to their fate. And he alone reached the shores of 
Cuba alive. 

At the foot of the hill, and partly on its slope, lies 
the little town called St. Ann's Bay, with wharves 
and stores stretching along the shore. Cocoa-nut 
trees in great abundance, and the rich foliage of 
the orange and star-apple, the plantain and the 
banana, overshadowing and partly concealing the 
dwellings of the inhabitants, impart grace and 
beauty to the landscape. Immediately under the 
eye ships ride at anchor in the harbor, surrounded 
by land and reefs, and accessible only by one or 
two narrow channels. This view calls up interest-' 
ing memories of the great navigator, as it was here 
he first approached the shores of Jamaica, and 
here he passed through some of the most painful 
scenes of his checkered life, arising out of the 



310 Romance Without Fiction. 

treachery and misconduct of his Spanish asso- 
ciates. The whole scene, as far as the eye can 
reach from the Cloisters — for such is the name 
that pleasant residence bears — is lovely, and 
fraught with interest from its association with the 
past. But it is destined to be invested with 
deeper and more painful interest as the scene of 
a terrible calamity, bringing sudden desolation 
and untold agony and woe to the secluded home 
which overlooks the landscape just described. 

Lovely in their favored situation, the Cloisters 
are graced by the presence of four beautiful girls, 
the daughters of the gentleman who owns and oc- 
cupies the place. The house may not be called a 
mansion, for it contains only just sufficient accom- 
modation for the family, and it is old, and getting 
somewhat out of repair. But intelligence and re- 
fined and cultivated taste preside there — womanly 
taste, w r hose magic influence invests all. within and 
without the dwelling with grace and beauty, and 
converts it into a paradise of joy. These lovely 
creole girls, beautiful as Hebe, though varying in 
the character of their loveliness, and all in the 
bloom and freshness of earliest womanhood, have 
but recently returned from Europe. There a fa- 
ther's fondness has lavished upon them the ad- 
vantages of the most finished education he could 
procure, and loving and amiable, as they are 
graceful and accomplished, they are well fitted to 
call into exercise all the pride and fondness of a 
parent's heart, as indeed they do. He is a proud 
man, but most of all he is proud of the sweet girls 



Driving Away the Rooks. 311 

who have come to shed light and gladness upon 
the home in which, for several years past, he has 
had many gloomy and bitter thoughts. The fount- 
ains of love and tenderness in that sacred heart 
of his are broken up ; he lavishes upon these 
bright and attractive objects all the idolatrous 
fondness of which he is capable, and almost for- 
getting" in their charmed circle that there is any 
higher joy to aspire after, he looks forward, as 
he contemplates the bloom and freshness and 
sparkling gayety of those loved ones, to the sun- 
shine of many happy years. Nor does he think 
for a moment of the possibility that all this 
brightness may fade like a dissolving view, and 
the objects of his heart's idolatry sink away from 
his embrace, as if the whole were a dream, him- 
self waking up to the bitter reality of desolation 
and woe. 

It is a lovely morning, glad with tropical light 
and beauty. In the harbor at the foot of the hill 
on which that bright home reposes, at a short dis- 
tance from the shore, are several large merchant 
ships resting upon the untroubled surface of the 
quiet bay, whose waters glisten like molten silver 
in the slanting rays of the morning sun. They are 
waiting to collect the rich freight of sugar, as it is 
manufactured on the several plantations around, 
and to convey it to the shores of Europe, One of 
these vessels is gayly decorated, the flags of all 
nations streaming from her masts and stays, for a 
gay party has been invited by her captain to par- 
take his hospitality, and take breakfast on board 



312 Romance Without Fiction. 

-his ship. The boats are in requisition, manned 
by hardy tars in holiday attire, and as the guests 
appear upon the wharf they are speedily conveyed 
to the ship. The gentlemen ascend the side lad- 
ders ; the ladies, placed in a chair, and carefully 
wrapped about with the Union Jack, are hoisted 
over the ship's side to the deck. A lively and 
brilliant party it is that is assembled on the quar- 
ter-deck, where a thick canvas awning, stretching 
from side to side, affords ample protection from 
the sun's fervid rays, while it gives free admission 
to the gentle refreshing breeze, which at this early 
hour comes down from the land. The guests are 
numerous, including the principal members of sev- 
eral families residing within a few miles of the Bay. 
But gayest among the gay, and loveliest among the 
lovely, are the sweet belles of the rectory, who, 
with their father, are there, and who form the 
principal center of attraction on that ship's deck. 
On their cheeks is the rosy bloom brought from 
Europe, which has not yet had time to fade away 
under the paling influence of the tropics, and the 
vivacity of the more temperate zone has not yet 
given place to the languor engendered by long 
residence in a more ardent clime. All who look 
upon these lovely girls, and mark their exuberance 
of gayety and their lively sallies of wit and repar- 
tee, partake the enjoyment, and pronounce the 
father of such a troop of blooming maidens ablest 
and happy man. No one has any premonition of 
the dark cloud of woe that is even now enwrap- 
ping them in its folds, and in which a large por- 



Driving Away the Rooks. 313 

tion of that laughing group disappear, to be seen 
no more on earth forever. 

A bountiful and dainty repast is served beneath 
the awning upon the deck, and all is festivity and 
enjoyment, intelligence and refinement being hand- 
maids of the well-selected company. The sea is 
smooth, for only a slight breeze ripples the surface 
outside, and within the bay the water scarcely 
moves at all, except as the large waves roll slug- 
gishly in and gently break upon the shore. A few 
clouds in the distant sky indicate the possibility 
of a shower later in the day, but they furnish no 
reason why the proposal should not be entertained 
to get the ship's boats round from the stern of the 
vessel, where they are ^lazily riding on the water, 
and take a pleasant sail about the bay. It is not 
a time of the year when storms occur, and the idea 
of possible danger in that well-sheltered harbor 
does not present itself to any mind. Amid fun 
and laughter the ladies are again swung over the 
sides ; the sailors, whose lusty arms, with a hearty 
"Yeo, heave O," hoist them into the air, and then 
let them gently down to the boat, entering into 
the fun with as much gusto as the gentlemen 
themselves. At length all are seated, the smart- 
looking captain, exulting in the triumph of the 
manoeuver by which he has succeeded in getting 
the belles of the party, the four charming sisters, 
into his own boat, an arrangement which separates 
them for the time from their father, who would 
gladly have taken his seat with them, only that an 
equal division of the party among the several boats 



314 Romance Without Fiction. 

consigns him to another. The usually quiet har- 
bor resounds with laughter and merriment as the 
sails are hoisted, and the boats speed away from 
the ship. 

For some time they sail about the bay, casting' 
out lines with treacherous bait to lure the denizens 
of the deep, with what results none can say. 
Whether it was that the captain, whose practiced 
eye should have scanned the heavens with the 
care almost instinctive in the sailor, was too much 
occupied in interesting converse with, and waiting 
on, his lovely charge, certain it is that neither he 
nor any one else observed that the scattered clouds 
had been attracted into one small compact mass, 
and, charged with wind and rain, were driving 
down upon them in a squall, which, in its com- 
paratively narrow course, might, without due care, 
place them in jeopardy. So contracted is its 
width that it reaches not the other boats ; but 
right upon the captain's boat the miniature tem- 
pest sweeps with terrible fierceness : and before 
the sail can be let loose the boat turns over, fills, 
and sinks, and all who were in it are struggling in 
the water. 

A few minutes and the squall has passed over, 
but those in the unfortunate boat have found a 
watery grave. The captain, who was steering, 
with the four sisters, and six others, have all dis- 
appeared from life. The other boats hasten to the 
fatal spot with all possible expedition, but it is too 
late. Not one of those whom the greedy sea has 
engulfed can be found ; nor are they ever seen 



Driving Away the Rooks. 315 

again. Eleven human spirits have suddenly 
passed within the vail that separates time and -its 
concerns from the eternal world. Whether the 
victims sank down to find a resting-place among 
the reefs near which they disappeared, or whether 
hungry sharks, which frequent the bays and har- 
bors of these western isles in great numbers, 
especially when ships are anchored there, seized 
them as their prey, must be left to the revelations 
of that day when the sea shall give up its dead. 
But they are gone. The lively, laughing, joyous 
party have all passed away from human ken ; and 
the sparkling wit, the sweet melody, and the pleas- 
ant jest are hushed in the silence of death. To 
more than one family sorrow and desolation have 
been brought home by the shocking catastrophe, 
the news of which soon spreads gloom over all the 
land. 

But who shall describe the feelings which rend 
the heart of the bereaved father, as he looks on 
from another boat, and beholds his life's joy 
swallowed up in a moment before his eyes ? It 
may not be. No words can depict the agony of 
that stricken heart, or express an adequate idea of 
the great and crushing sorrow that presses upon 
his soul. These daughters, graced with the charms 
of youthful beauty, the accomplishments of a re- 
fined education, the attractions of a sweet and 
amiable disposition, inherited from a mother of 
meek and quiet spirit, and, above all, adorned with 
a sincere regard for religion, were not only admired 
and loved by the father, bat,, as he afterward con- 



316 Romance Without Fiction. 

fessed in great bitterness of spirit, were idolized by 
him. He suffered them to occupy that place in 
his heart which no creature or creatures ought to 
fill ; where God, the great and good, alone should 
be enthroned. And in proportion to the pride he 
has felt -in them and the all-absorbing love he has 
lavished upon them, is the utter prostration of 
spirit which he feels when he sees the idols shat- 
tered ; and that upon which he trusts for happi- 
ness, and upon which he has built all his most 
cherished hopes, sinks out of sight forever. He is 
conducted to his desolated home, so lately full of 
sunshine and joy, now dark, cheerless, wretched, 
beyond all that language can describe. Friends 
surround him, but he refuses to be comforted; and 
like a stricken worm he lies writhing and groaning 
in affliction and helplessness, till weeks and 
months have passed away, the world one wide 
scene of desolation all around. 

Time, that lessens the acuteness of the sharpest 
grief, brings some mitigation of his heavy burden of 
distress ; but, what is far better, he is led to turn 
his thoughts inward upon himself, and backward 
upon the past. The views and feelings which have 
influenced his life are greatly modified as he re- 
gards them in the surroundings of that chamber 
of sickness and sorrow ; and he begins to perceive 
that the past with him has been a mistake, a sad, 
mournful mistake. Among those who have 
stepped forward to show their sympathy with the 
heart-stricken man, and to express their sorrow at 
the terrible calamity which robbed him of his 



Driving Away the Rooks. 317 

children, are those who have largely suffered at 
his hands, and, through his pernicious counsels, 
have had their homes desolated, and their sanc- 
tuaries laid waste. It is no time now to call up 
the remembrance of such wrongs, when the God- 
smitten man so greatly needs the condolence of 
all loving hearts, and the richer consolations of 
Divine grace. A grateful, courteous reception is 
given to men from whom once he would have 
turned away in bitter scorn ; and he listens attent- 
ively while they speak of a heavenly Father 
chastening in love, and of heart-rending afflic- 
tions, which wring each tender fiber of the heart, 
coming as messengers of Divine benignity to whis- 
per in the erring sinner's ear, " My son, give me 
thine heart." He joins with them, too, in those 
breathings to a throne of grace, which though 
expressed in no canonical words, are well adapted 
to a case of overwhelming grief, for which no forms 
of prayer he has been accustomed to are appro- 
priate. 

Months speed away before the bereaved one is 
able to lift himself upon the bed of suffering on 
which he has been cast, scathed, shattered, and 
stripped as with the lightning stroke of heaven ; 
but he comes forth at length a subdued and greatly 
changed man. The towering pride of intellect, of 
station, of intolerance, has been smitten to the 
dust. The vail which selfishness and worldiness 
had drawn before his eyes, and over his heart, 
rendering him insensible to the just claims of 
others, and producing an indifference to human 



318 Romance Without Fiction. 

suffering at which he now stands amazed, is rent 
asunder. He now perceives and humbly ac- 
knowledges, as he looks upward from his prostra- 
tion, " It is the Lord ; let him do what seemeth 
him good." 

But he is not to resume there those duties 
which belong to his office. He feels that to be 
beyond his power. Not there can he remain, 
where every object would but recall perpetually 
the memory of his lost ones, and revive the pangs 
of that visitation of God which blighted all his 
earthly joy. Not there, where so many years 
have been awfully misspent, where sacred duties 
have been neglected, where deeds of crying wrong 
have been done, which may be repented of, but 
cannot be repaired. Not there, where sad, bitter, 
agonizing memories would be called up by every 
varying scene upon which the eye could rest, and 
shame and humiliation would meet him at every 
turn. No ; he must seek another home. Far 
away in some distant sphere he will exercise that 
sacred office, of all the duties and responsibilities 
of which he has hitherto f^een so regardless. And 
so it is determined, no doubt after anxious deliber- 
ation and prayer ; for, scoffer as he has been, he 
has at length learned to pray. The living he has 
held through so many years is resigned, and prep- 
arations are made for departure from the island. 
But before finally separating from those among 
whom he has lived and suffered, as he is yet too 
much bowed down under his affliction to meet 
them in person, he addresses a farewell letter to 



Driving* Away the Rooks. 319 

his parishioners, full of pathetic and penitential 
acknowledgments. This affecting address serves 
to show that he has turned to God in his distress, 
and justifies the hope that the concluding portion 
of his life will be more worthily and usefully 
employed than the years that are past. It also 
affords conclusive evidence that he, as well as 
those who, awe-struck and sorrowful, looked 
upon it from around, has been constrained to 
recognize in the startling, crushing calamity that 
swept away his cherished ones, the hand of 
a righteous God, lifted against him in just retri- 
bution. 

We may not give this touching appeal in full ; 
but a few extracts will serve to show T the chastened 
and altered views with which the man of violence 
has been brought to look upon both the past and 
the future : 

In the expectation of soon quitting these shores, 
I feel constrained thus to address you, whose 
claims upon me are increased by a conscious 
neglect of many important duties as rector of this 
extensive parish ; and coming from one who not 
only tells you that he deeply laments his many 
failings, but who stands before you a terrible ex- 
ample of God's awakening judgments, my words 
may not, perhaps, fall unheeded on the ears of 
all. . . . 

"When all around looked fair and smiled, a 

. dark and mysterious providence, which neither 

men nor angels can at present penetrate, sent 

death in one of its most terrific, unexpected 



320 Romance WithoCt Fiction. 

shapes among the happiest of our domestic cir- 
cles, cut short the brightest days of many a 
thoughtless heart, and summoned eleven beings 
suddenly before their great Creator. . . . 

" Nature will be heard, and even says we do 
well to weep for those on whom death comes thus 
suddenly in days of youth and hope. O what a 
strange and melancholy change have they expe- 
rienced ! Instead of the cheerful light of day, the 
unbroken darkness of ocean's strange unfathomed 
caves now covers them until the last great day ! 
Instead of the fond caresses of parents, friends, 
and children, the horrid monsters "of the briny 
deep are now their sole companions ! Their 
earthly hopes have died ; all their expectations 
for this life have perished ! . . . 

" Such complicated misery, a more than ordi- 
nary share' of which falls to my single lot to bear, 
has, I confess, bowed my spirit to the very dust. 
With unwonted weight the heavy burden hangs 
upon my soul. In the agony of my heart, when 
told of the compassion of my Saviour, I have 
wickedly said, * Such compassion will not suit my 
case. I need more than pity. My misery admits 
of no relief. My children are ail taken from me, 
and no miracles now rouse the slumbering dead : 
how, then, shall I be comforted ? Nothing is left 
for the desolate but to mourn and die ? ' Yet, 
alas ! what a limiting of God's power, what a 
questioning of his equity, is this ! . . . 

" Who that has been deeply tried has not expe- 
rienced the weakening, disheartening effects of 



Driving Away the Rooks. 32 1 

long-continued sorrow, something of the selfish- 
ness and despondency and sloth and aching for 
sympathy, with that unconquerable proneness to 
look for human aid which nature connects with 
all mental grief? Yet if there be a creature in 
the universe who has reason to trust in God and to 
hope in his mercy, it is myself, a poor inhabitant of 
earth whom affliction has stopped in his thought- 
less career, whom sorrow has taught to pray, whom 
adversity has led to Christ. Let one, then, who 
feels that he has but carelessly tended you as your 
pastor, now serve you better as a beacon, standing 
♦ before you a wretched instance of the uncertain 
hold we have of all. our earthly comforts. . . . 

" Remember the dear departed who have been 
removed hence for our warning, and the trembling 
victim by whom you are now admonished. Think 
of my punishment. Blessed w T ith the fleeting com- 
forts of the world, I was trusting in their stability, 
secure, I thought, in my own resources. I did not 
remember that it was God who lent me what I was 
so blessed with. -They were placed by me be- 
tween my soul and the Saviour. I prized the gift 
so much that I forgot the Giver. So, to reclaim 
an apostate heart, he returned in an unexpected 
moment and took them all away. . . . 

" Does this look like the work of chance ? No ; 
it was the fearful work of an offended God. To 
vindicate his name, to compel all beholders to see 
that he was its author in the awful case before us, 
he struck such a blow as mortal arm could scarcely 
have inflicted; so rapid, so destructive, so unac- 



322 Romance Without Fiction. 

countable, that unbelief itself must be compelled 
to ascribe it to his omnipotent arm. In a moment, 
under the serenest sky, with scarcely a cause ap- 
parent, eleven happy beings, in the bloom of youth 
and health, are separated from their parents, hus- 
bands, and children, smile in their death, and sink 
beneath the waves. Take heed, then, my friends, 
how you attempt to push God out of his own 
world. I once tried to do so ; you see what I got 
for it : the destruction of all my comforts, and 
that, too, in a manner so striking, so unexpected, 
that though I saw them go, their, loss still seems 
but the illusion of a dream. He rushed upon me 
in an unexpected moment of thoughtless enjoy- 
ment, came with the suddenness of lightning, and 
with the violence of a hurricane, and scarcely had 
the waves closed over my children when I felt my 
' sins had found me out ! ' He took my four chil- 
dren from me when they had just become most 
dear; when I most required their aid; when I was 
clinging to them as if indeed the world would be a 
blank without them. In the sweet possession of 
them I had experienced much of God's mercy, in 
their loss I am now taught the last lesson that fool- 
ish man will learn on earth — God's sovereignty." 

Many rejoice over these outpourings of a bleed- 
ing heart, for they show that the Lord's hand has 
not been laid upon the sufferer in vain, and that 
he has been driven by the terrors of the Lord to 
shelter within the wings of the Divine mercy, whith- 
er no sinner ever repairs in vain. And this is the 
last that is known of him in the colony where he 



Driving Away the Rooks. 323 

has wrought and suffered so much of evil. He 
disappears, to be seen there no more. But his 
course may be traced in two quarters of the globe 
for many years — more than a quarter of a century ; 
never, however, by any deeds that appear to be 
unworthy of his changed character or of the sa- 
cred office he continues to fill, until he finds his 
resting-place in the dust somewhere in one of the 
western counties of England. His spirit, it is re- 
freshing to believe, was absolved, regenerated, and 
purified from all earthly influences before passing 
to the better land, to be forever with that exalted, 
loving Saviour, who, through the fires of much 
painful affliction, had drawn him to his own feet. 
Somewhere on the coast in the west of England a 
large boulder is to be seen, consecrated years after 
the occurrence by a father's enduring love, to be 
a memorial of the four lovely girls lying far, far 
away in their lonely watery grave. On this stone 
the chisel has inscribed a record of the catastrophe 
which left that parent's heart so desolate and for- 
lorn, but which proved to be in Jehovah's inscru- 
table wonder-working providence, the crowning 
mercy of a sin-checkered existence, and the open- 
ing of the portals of life to a misguided and per- 
ishing soul. 

When the humbled man takes his departure the 
desolations which he helped to create are being 
repaired, the waste places restored. Already sev- 
eral of the razed sanctuaries have been rebuilt, 
and others are rising out of the ruin caused by 
violent hands. This is the case in the little town 

21 



324 Romance Without Fiction. 

which calmly reposes at the foot of the hill upon 
which the rector's dwelling, embowered in beauti- 
ful trees, resounded so lately with the joyous laugh 
and lively song of the fondly cherished daughters 
so suddenly snatched away, and commanding a 
full view of the placid bay beneath whose waters, 
uncoffined and unknelled, they and their fellow- 
sufferers await the resurrection morn, when " the 
greedy sea shall yield her dead." Arrangements 
are going on to rebuild the house of prayer which 
for five years has been a heap of ruins. Mean- 
while the word of life is preached, and the worship 
of God carried on beneath the folds of a canvas 
tent, supplied by the liberality of Christian friends 
beyond the sea. This is erected in the adjacent 
burial-ground, where repose the ashes of two mis- 
sionary-servants of the cross, who finished their 
labors here during the recent persecutions, which 
the Divine interposition has now brought to an 
end. 

But as yet no arrangements are in progress to 
restore the missionary dwelling in the town wan- 
tonly destroyed by fire, a building which ruffianly 
hands once pierced with volleys of bullets, hoping 
to destroy the unoffending inmates, and to which 
other evil hands afterward applied the firebrand, 
sweeping it quite away. Grass and bushes now 
cover the site it formerly occupied, and the mis- 
sionary family make the best they can of a little 
cottage, neither commodious nor healthy, which 
has been hired until more suitable provision can 
be made. And after a while the opportunity 



Driving Azvay the Rooks. 325 

arrives. "The Cloisters," which is the rector's 
own private property, is announced to be for sale. 
The cool and healthy situation it occupies, far 
above the unwholesome influences which abound 
below, and render a residence near the sea so 
unhealthy for Europeans, marks it out as a most 
desirable location for the mission house. After 
due deliberation it is resolved to effect the pur- 
chase. 

It has to be done quietly and warily, for there 
is yet enough of the old persecuting spirit left in 
some quarters to render it probable that opposi- 
tion will be made to any attempt to have those 
premises conveyed for missionary uses. But a 
friend comes forward to transact the business ; 
the purchase is completed, and the missionary 
family takes possession of " The Cloisters " as a 
home. There is one missionary on the committee 
to which the management "of this business has 
been confided — the writer of these pages — who 
has marked with wonder and gratitude, and not 
unfrequently with awe, the hand of the Lord in 
what has come to pass. As he moves about those 
grounds at " The Cloisters," he recalls deeds of 
cruel severity which have been enacted there. 
Proceeding from room to room, thoughts are 
awakened in his breast of the unhallowed combi- 
nations that have been formed and the schemes 
of evil which have originated beneath that roof. 
And then, as he looks abroad on the splendid 
panoramic scene that hill commands, his eye rest- 
ing first upon the restored sanctuaries beneath, 



326 Romance Without Fiction. 

and then upon the spot where the sea engulfed its 
prey, and filled with desolation and grief the home 
of him who had made others desolate, he sees how 
easy it is for the Ruler of all things to make the 
devices of opposers and persecutors to be of none 
effect. 

But that which impresses his mind above all is 
the striking manifestation of retributive providence 
in the fact of his being upon that spot, and for such 
a purpose, to take possession of that property, and 
adapt it to missionary uses. This is the residence 
of the man, and here he had his nest for many 
years, who, in bitter opposition to those who were 
doing the Lord's work, suggested the evil counsel, 
" Get rid of the rooks by destroying their nests. " 
Out of that very door he passed to the meeting 
where his evil counsel prevailed. By a wondrous 
series of providential dealings, terribly fraught with 
judgment, but richly mingled with mercy, a Di- 
vine hand has humbled the offender, driven him 
from his own nest, and sent him forth a wretched 
wanderer. Now God has given the nest to those 
whom the proud man scornfully denounced as 
rooks, and who were left shelterless by his means. 
These despised ones are made to occupy the very 
apartments where, encouraging only thoughts of 
evil, he nestled with his young, and from which 
Jehovah in righteous anger took them to perish 
before the doting father's eyes. Yes, the Holy 
and the Just One has acted in righteous retribu- 
tion in giving to the injured the nest of him who 
caused them to be cast out of their homes, and 



Driving Away the Rooks. 327 

left without a shelter, by giving the Ahithophel- 
like counsel, " If you want to get rid of the rooks 
you must destroy their nests." 

N. B. — u The Cloisters " has been the residence 
of the Wesleyan mission family at St. Ann's Bay 
for nearly thirty years. 



328 Romance Without Fiction. 



XVI. 

Father and Son. 

How terrible is passion ! how our reason 
Falls down before it ! while the tortured frame, 
Like a ship dash'd by fierce encount'ring tides, 
And of her pilot spoiled, drives round and round, 
The sport of wind and wave. — Bakfoed. 

66 5TLT was a melancholy termination to a very 
/21l bad life," was the remark of a friend to me, 
referring to a paragraph in the columns of 
one of the Jamaica newspapers which he then 
held in his hand. This was not long after the 
time when the apprenticeship system had super- 
seded in that land the cruel system of bondage 
which was so rapidly diminishing the slave popu- 
lation as to threaten the extinction of the op- 
pressed race in a very few years. 

The person to whom this remark applied had 
been a prominent actor in those events which 
marked the history of the colony at that period, 
especially those that had reference to the main- 
tenance of slavery and the persecution of Chris- 
tian missionaries. And now, in the prime of lusty, 
vigorous life, like many others who had lifted up 
unholy hands against the cause of Christ and 
sought to hinder the spread of his truth, he had 
suddenly dropped into, the grave by a casualty 



Father and Son. 329 

which to those who regarded not the work of the 
Lord, nor considered the operation of his hands, 
was only an accident. But to many who knew the 
man and his history, and remembered how the 
face of the Lord is against them that do evil, the 
occurrence wore a different aspect, and was re- 
garded as one of the instances of providential 
retribution in which the hand of the Lord had, 
within a few brief months, swept away from life 
many of those who had banded together to perse- 
cute his servants, and to banish religion and Chris- 
tian instruction from the land. 

The Hon. Philip B. began life in Jamaica as a. 
journeyman stone-mason, having emigrated from 
England to find employment, where he hoped 
to meet with less of competition, and a more lib- 
eral remuneration of his toil, than in his native 
land. He was not disappointed. A white man, 
and a skilled artisan, he soon found employment 
on the estates of a large proprietor as head mason, 
with a large slave-gang placed under his direction. 
In the course of time, partly by looking well after 
his own interests, and partly by marriage with a 
lady .entitled to property, he became himself the 
owner of slaves, and a landed proprietor on such 
a scale as enabled him to mingle with the proud 
magnates of the country, and take his place in the 
legislative Assembly. There he was always to be 
found giving his support to measures of intolerance 
and oppression, while he gave himself up to the 
licentious and vicious habits sure to prevail in a 
country where slavery has its home. 



330 Romance Without Fiction. 

Possessing but a slender portion of ability, he 
could in public life only follow the leading of 
others, and was invariably found devoting such 
influence as he could wield to the side of evil. 
For some years every act of the Jamaica Legisla- 
ture that was calculated to increase the burden of 
oppression under which the toil-worn slave was 
made to groan, or that was intended to interpose 
obstacles to the benevolent labors of the Christian 
missionary, was sustained by his vote. All the 
seditious movements of the planters, and their 
threats of renouncing their allegiance to the Brit- 
ish crown, were warmly seconded by him. He 
resisted to the last the reasonable and equitable 
proposal to remove the legal disabilities under 
which the free colored and black population had 
always been oppressed and degraded, and refused 
to yield to those who, notwithstanding their com- 
plexion, were in numerous instances vastly his su- 
periors in moral worth and intellectual power and 
acquirements, equal rights and privileges. He 
was a member of the legislative committee which, 
by suppressing and garbling evidence, had sought 
to fix upon missionaries the charge of instigating 
the negro insurrection of 183 1-2, occasioned, in 
truth, by the seditious folly and violence of the 
planters themselves, and destined, in the wise and 
good providence of God, to give the death-blow 
to human slavery in the British empire. He was 
always the weak, willing tool of oppression and 
intolerance, a man whose public life was truckling 
and time-serving from the beginning to the end. 



Father mid Son. 331 

He had one son possessing a claim to legitimacy, 
and of the orthodox European complexion, whom 
his father destined for the church, with a view to 
his being ultimately installed in one of the sung 
rectories of the island, and possibly in a well- 
endowed archdeaconry to which, backed by his 
father's influence as a member of the Colonial 
Legislature, he might not unreasonably aspire. 
While the son was absent from home receiving his 
education, his mother died. During her life-time 
the' husband and father had, outwardly at least, 
paid some regard to the decencies and proprieties 
of wedded life ; but w T hen the grave closed over 
her remains, all restraint was cast off, and Mr. B. 
gave himself up again, as he had done before, 
to the vicious and demoralizing practices which 
always accompany slavery. When the son arrived 
at his old home in holy orders, it was to find a 
state of things prevailing under his father's roof 
that gave a rude and painful shock to the more 
refined and honorable sentiments awakened with- 
in him during his educational course, amid the 
elevating and hallowing influences of a Christian 
land. 

He shut his eyes, as far as possible, to the faults 
of his sire, and interfered only with gentle re- 
monstrances when rude and noisy revels, and the 
excesses of a brutal intemperance, rendered it im- 
possible to look on in unbroken silence. These 
were listened to at first without resentment ; but, 
on repetition, were spurned as an impertinent in- 
terference with matters that did not concern him, 



332 Romance Without Fiction. 

and gradually led to angry altercation. Frequent- 
ly he had to withdraw from his father's table to 
avoid being associated there with one, the presence 
, of whom he could not but regard as an insult to 
the memory of a mother whose virtues and tender 
love were his most cherished recollections. He 
hoped that his silent withdrawal from such a pres- 
ence would be a sufficient protest against the out- 
rage to propriety it involved, and that it would 
avail to correct the evil, little apprehensive of 
the fatal consequences to which it was destined to 
lead. 

On one of these occasions, when he rose to leave 
the untasted morning meal, his father interposed, 
and commanded him to resume his seat. He 
begged to be excused, and, with all respect to his 
father, stated as his reason for wishing to withdraw 
that it would both compromise his self-respect as 
a minister of Christ, and dishonor the memory of 
his virtuous mother, to eat at his father's table 
with such a companion as he had thought fit to 
introduce there. Exasperated beyond all self- 
control by this plain dealing on the part of his 
son, Mr. B. struck a violent blow at the mouth 
from whence the reproving words had issued, 
causing a copious flow of blood ; and followed the 
young man with bitter curses and reviling as he 
retired, without a word of reply, to his own room. 
It was a fatal blow ; not to him who received, but 
to him who gave it. The father found, after his 
son left the room, that in his blind fury he 
had injured his own hand against the teeth of the 



Father and Son. 333 

young man, and that blood was flowing from the 
wound. As it was merely a scratch, he thought 
nothing of it. But after a few hours the slight 
wound began to exhibit an angry appearance, and 
the inflammation increased and spread up the arm. 
Medical treatment was resorted to, but it failed to 
check the progress of the evil.* Vicious excesses 
had corrupted his blood, and all the appliances of 
science were baffled. Gangrene, mortification, 
death, came on in rapid succession, and in about 
three days after the fatal altercation the immortal 
spirit passed to its unseen and unchanging destiny : 
and another was added to the long catalogue of 
those remarkable casualties through which so 
many of the wrong-doers of those days were 
swept, in the midst of life and strength, to an 
early grave by a violent death, giving fearful 
significance to the impressive record of Holy 
Writ, " He ordaineth his arrows against the per- 
secutors." 



334 Romance Without Fiction. 



XVII. 

The Kidnapped Noble. 

Thus spurn'd, degraded, trampled, and oppress 1 d, 

The negro exile languish'd in the west, 

With nothing left of life but bated breath, 

And not a hope except the hope in death, 

To fly forever from the Creole strand, 

And dwell a freeman in his father's land. — Montgomery. 

[RUTH is sometimes stranger than fiction. 
The faithful delineation of real occurrences 
will sometimes produce a picture which the 
boldest writer, of romance would scarcely venture 
to indite, if it were the mere creation of his fancy. 
The legitimate boundaries of truth are sufficiently 
comprehensive to contain much that is wonderful 
and apparently improbable. The vicissitudes and 
sufferings of many a life in the realm of slavedom 
would rival, in startling incidents and thrilling in- 
terest, those tales of the imagination which have 
harrowed the feelings and powerfully stirred up 
the sensibilities of a multitude of persons, who 
never knew what it was to drop a tear of sympathy 
over the real sufferings of vfellow-creatures enduring 
a lot of constant anguish and woe. The following 
narrative contains nothing of the merely imaginary ; 
it is a tale of real life. 

When the writer first arrived in Jamaica, in 



The Kidnapped Noble. 335 

1 S3 1, there was in the society at Wesley Chapel, 
Kingston, then under the pastoral care of the 
Rev. Peter Duncan, a black man known by the 
name of Edward Donlan. He was a slave be- 
longing to a builder in large business in the city, 
whose name was Anderson, and who had the repu- 
tation of being a kind and indulgent master. Mr. 
Anderson held a large ownership in the sinews 
and muscles of men, women, and children. His 
extensive business required that he should have 
several large slave-gangs to fill the various de- 
partments of labor comprehended in the numerous 
building contracts into which he entered. Ed- 
ward Donlan, though Anderson's slave, belonged 
to none of these laboring gangs. He was neither 
carpenter nor mason, nor was he an artisan of any 
kind. He occupied the position of a clerk or ac- 
countant, and kept all the books pertaining to the 
business, which his master, who had risen from a 
humble position in life, was unable to keep him- 
self. It was one of those cases in which the 
slave was in intellectual power and acquirements 
superior to the man who claimed him as his 
"property" 

Donlan was for some years united to the Meth- 
odist Society, and was one of the most steady and 
consistent members of the class to which he be- 
longed. Every Sabbath morning at an early hour 
he might be seen in the chapel, earnestly and 
humbly listening to the Christian counsels 
addressed to him by his class-leader. His skin 
was of the darkest African type — a pure jet. 



336 Romance Without Fiction. 

From his eye gleamed the light of an intellect 
whose powers had been awakened' and developed, 
as they only can be, by a process of education. 
But there was always to be perceived about him 
an air of sadness approaching to melancholy. He 
was scarcely ever seen to' smile, and moved about 
with a degree of sedateness and gravity that ap- 
peared to indicate a load of sorrow always resting 
upon the mind. During religious worship he sat and 
listened with devout attention, but seemed not to 
join in the singing ; or, if he did so at all, it was in a 
very quiet and subdued manner. His sorrowful de- 
portment, combined with the superior intelligence 
indicated both in his countenance and conversa- 
tion, could not fail to arrest the attention of those 
whose pastoral duty required them, once in every 
quarter of the year, to speak with him on matters 
relating to the welfare of his soul, and give him 
religious counsel and advice. When questioned 
concerning his former history, he unfolded a tale 
of painful vicissitudes that sufficiently accounted 
for the gloom and sadness by which he was gener- 
ally characterized. Born of parents who occupied 
an exalted position in his native land, he had fall- 
en into the hands of the man-stealer : and forcibly 
borne away from friends and home, he had, after 
suffering all the horrors of the middle passage, 
been consigned to the misery and degradation of 
slavery in a foreign land. 

The African name of Edward Donlan was Abou 
Beer Sadiki. He was born in Timbuctoo, and 
brought up in Geneh. His father's name was 



The Kidnapped Noble. 337 

Kara Mousa, Scheriff ; the latter word denoting, 
u of a noble family." His grandfather lived in the 
country of Timbuctoo and Geneh, and was the 
son of Ibrahim, the founder of his race in the 
country of Geneh. His father had four brothers, 
named Aderiza, Abdriman, Mahomet,, and Abou 
Beer. After the death of his grandfather, these 
uncles of his disagreed among themselves and 
were scattered in different parts of Soudan. 
Aderiza went to the country of Marsina, where he 
dwelt for a long time ; after that he removed over 
the river and dwelt in Geneh, and married a 
daughter of Maroulhaide Abou Beer. Abdriman 
went to the country of Cong, and married the 
daughter of Samer All, the lord of that land. 
Mahomet went to the country of Gonnah, and 
married the daughter of the king of Gonnah. 
Abou Beer remained in the country of Timbuctoo. 
His father, Kara Mousa, frequently traveled to 
the country of Cassina and Bournoo, where he 
married. He returned with his wife to Timbuc- 
too, and there Abou Beer Sadiki was born. 

Great attention was paid to his education when 
he was a boy. When he was about two years old, 
his father thought much about his brothers, and 
grieved over the family dissensions that had 
caused their separation ; and he resolved to visit 
them, and renew the friendly intercourse so pain- 
fully interrupted. Accompanied by a numerous 
retinue of servants, the family of Kara Mousa first 
took their journey to Geneh. From thence they 
proceeded to Bong, and. thence to Gonnah, where 



338 Romance Without Fiction. 

they took up their abode and remained for the 
purpose of trade. In Gonnah the servants (slaves) 
gathered a quantity of gold for their master ; for 
there is a great deal of gold obtained in that 
country, from the wilderness down to the river- 
side, also from the rocks. They crush the stones 
to dust, and put them into a vessel of water, when 
the gold separates and sinks down, and the dust 
floats. Then they purify the metal and make it 
ready for use. During his residence in that coun- 
try his father collected a large quantity of gold 
and silver, some of which he sent to his father- 
in-law, Ali Aga Mahomed Tassere, in the country 
of Bournoo and Cassina. He also sent, as a pres- 
ent, horses, mules, and rich silks, obtained from 
Egypt. 

While they were residing in Gonnah, his father 
caught the bad fever and died, and was buried 
there. All this took place while he, Abou Beer 
Sadiki, was a young child ; and these particulars 
concerning his family he obtained from his uncles. 
After his father's death he returned to Timbuctoo. 
He acquired the knowledge of the Alcoran- in 
Gonnah, where there were many teachers for young 
people. The names of the several masters from 
whom he received instruction were Abondonlaki, 
a son of Ali Ago ; Mahomed Wadiwahoo ; Ma- 
homed Ali Mustapha; Ibrahim son of Yussuf, a 
native ; and Ibrahim son of Abon Nassan from 
Footatoroo. These were all under the direction 
of a head master, the son of Ali Aga Mahomed 
TurTosere. It was thus he had received an educa- 



The Kidnapped Noble. 339 

tion such as only the members of noble families 
could aspire to, and which was intended to pre- 
pare him to take his place among the highest 
class of people in his own country. Instead of 
that he had been violently torn away from his 
home and sunk into the miserable condition of a 
slave, subject absolutely to the will of another, and 
not able to call his time or his body or his soul his 
own. 

About five years after the death of his father, 
he felt a strong desire to go to Gonnah and visit 
his father's grave. His teacher, who had himself 
and several other youths in charge, not only gave 
his consent, but volunteered to accompany him on 
the journey to Gonnah, and also to take with him 
other scholars, all of whom belonged to noble 
families, to bear them company. After much 
fatigue they arrived at Cong, and from thence 
went on to Gonnah, "where," he said, "we 
stopped two years, as we considered the place 
a home, and we had a good deal of property 
there." 

About two years after their arrival in Gonnah 

the teacher had occasion to take a journey to 

Agi, leaving all his pupils in the care of Abou 

Beer Sadiki's uncle at Gonnah. Very shortly 

after his departure, a war unexpectedly broke out 

between Abdengara, the king of Buntuco, and the 

king of Gonnah. The latter monarch being 

worsted in the conflict, Abdengara's army, after 

great slaughter, took possession of the capital or 

chief town of Gonnah. Some of the inhabitants 

22 



340 Romance Without Fiction. 

of the captured town fled, and endeavored to make 
their escape to Cong ; but they failed in the 
attempt, and were captured by the victorious 
party. Among the unfortunate ones was Abou 
Beer Sadiki, with several of his fellow-students. 
The prisoners were treated with great harshness 
by their conquerors. Abou Beer Sadiki was 
stripped, and firmly tied with a cord to prevent 
his escape ; and then, with a heavy load which he 
was compelled to carry, was marched with others 
of his fellow-captives into the country of Buntuco. 
From thence, with many unhappy ones like him- 
self, he was taken to Cumasi, wherp the king of 
Ashanti reigned. Subsequently he was conducted 
first to Assicuma, thence to Agimaca, which is the 
country of the Fantees, and from thence to the 
town of Dago, by the seaside. All the way. in 
these long journeys, he had to travel on foot, 
bearing a heavy burden on his head, and a still 
heavier one on his heart : for it was a very- 
great sorrow to him thus to be torn away from his 
own country, and from all his beloved kindred and 
friends. 

At Dago he was " sold to the Christians ! " 
What a sad dishonor to Christianity that men 
bearing this sacred designation should touch a 
traffic founded in robbery and murder and com- 
prehending within itself all kinds of crime and 
wickedness ! Yet so It was. " Sold to the Chris- 
tians," to be degraded, plundered, flogged, and 
worked into the grave, has been the sad fate 
of untold millions of Africa's children ! Poor 



The Kidnapped Noble. 341 

broken-hearted Abou was purchased on the coast 
by the captain of one of the slave-ships, and deliv- 
ered over to the care of the sailors, with others who 
shared his wretchedness. The boat immediately 
pushed off, and he was soon on board one of those 
floating hells over which for so many years waved 
the ensign of Britain, protecting the most horrible 
wickedness ever perpetrated on this sin-stained 
globe. 

The slave-ship ! Think of a vessel built for 
quick sailing, and without the slightest reference 
to the comfort of the poor creatures she is to re- 
ceive as cargo ! Then think of six or seven hun- 
dred human beings huddled together, without any 
regard to the distinction of sexes, and so closely 
stowed that there is no possibility of their lying 
down or changing their position night or day. 
They are carried in this way a voyage of two or 
three months' duration, their only relief being the 
death of, perhaps, a fourth of the cargo, the 
removal of their dead bodies— cruelly and foully 
murdered — thus affording to the survivors a little 
more room to move their cramped and wasted limbs. 

It was into one of these horrible receptacles of 
stolen human cargo that this youth-— for he had 
not yet ripened into manhood — born of the no- 
blest in the land, was received. It is not at all sur- 
prising that one who became acquainted with the 
sufferer and his history after he had spent thirty 
years in wretched slavery, and who took a lively 
interest in measures to obtain his freedom from 
bondage, and get him returned to his own native 



342 Romance Without Fiction. 

Africa, should express himself in such language ae 
the following : 

" Without going into any discussion of an anti- 
slavery description, by what name under heaven 
that is compatible with moderation, that is musical 
to ears polite, must that system be called which 
sanctioned the stealing away of a person like this, 
as much a nobleman in his own country as any 
titled chief is in ours, and in his way, without dis- 
paragement to the English noble, as suitably edu- 
cated for his rank ? Fancy one of the scions of 
our nobility, a son of our war-chiefs — Lord Lon- 
donderry for example — educated at Oxford, and, 
in the course of his subsequent travels, unfortu- 
nately falling into the hands of African robbers, 
and being carried into bondage. Fancy the poor 
youth marched in the common slave-cofrle to the 
first market-place on the coast. He is exposed 
for sale. Nobody inquires whether he is a patri- 
cian or a plebeian ; nobody cares whether he is ig- 
norant or enlightened : it is enough that he has 
thews and sinews for a life of labor without re- 
ward. Follow him to the slave-ship. He survives 
the passage, and has seen the fifth part of his com- 
rades perish on the voyage. He is landed on 
some distant island, where he is doomed to hope- 
less, interminable slavery. The brutal scramble 
for the slaves has ceased ; he is dragged away by 
his new master, but not before he is branded with 
a heated iron, which may only sear his flesh, while 
the iron brand of slavery — the burning thought of 
endless bondage — enters into his soul," 



The Kidnapped Noble. 343 

After three months of inconceivable wretched- 
ness at sea, the vessel to which Abou Beer had 
been consigned arrived at Kingston, Jamaica, 
where the horrible traffic in human beings was 
still flourishing. It fell to the lot of the poor 
youth Abou to become the slave of Mr. Anderson, 
the builder, who never treated him with harshness 
or cruelty. But his soul was always bowed down 
to the earth with the sense of unutterable degra- 
dation and wrong — wrong to which he could see 
no termination in this life. There was no pros- 
pect before him but of incessant misery and suf- 
fering and unrequited 'toil, until death should 
bring the only relief that appeared to be possible. 

In his intercourse with his fellow-slaves Edward 
Donlan — for such was the name that had been 
bestowed upon him by his owner — discovered that 
some of those with whom he was associated de- 
rived great comfort, in their sorrowful and de- 
graded condition, from attending upon the ordi- 
nances of religion at the Methodist chapel. 
Hearing them sing the hymns they learned there, 
and speak of the grand truths proclaimed by the 
ministers, first induced him to go and hear for 
himself the preaching of which others were so fre- 
quently talking in his presence. He had learned 
the English language sufficiently to enable him to 
understand what he heard from the pulpit better 
than many others, and he did not hear in vain. 
His mind and heart were brought under the in- 
fluence of Gospel truth to some extent, and he 
united himself with the Church, enjoying a com- 



344 Romance Without Fiction. 

fortable hope of rest and life in the better world 
to come. 

But he never came so much under the power of 
religion as entirely to overcome the sorrow in- 
duced by the great and terrible change that had 
come upon him, and banish the fondly cherished 
recollections of his native land, and the kindred 
and friends from whom he had been so cruelly 
severed. He was very punctual in attending re- 
ligious ordinances whenever his enslaved condition 
permitted him to do so, and he always entered 
devoutly and intelligently into the services of the 
sanctuary, but he was the reverse of demonstrative 
in all things that pertained to religion. It was 
only when he was questioned by his class-leader 
or minister that he spoke of his religious views and 
feelings. Then he would dwell upon the great 
comfort which religion brought to his wounded 
spirit, and tell how he was looking to heaven as 
the rest from toil and trouble which God hath 
prepared for them that love him. Speaking once 
in sorrowful accents of his unhappy lot as a slave, 
he said, " I have none to thank but those that 
brought me here. But praise be to God, who has* 
every thing in his power to do as he thinks good, 
and no man can remove whatever burden he 
chooses to put on us. Nothing shall fall on us 
except what he shall ordain. He is our Lord., 
and let all that believe in him put their trust in 
him. ,, 

On another occasion, speaking of his parents 
and kindred, and referring to the Mussulman 



The Kidnapped Noble. 345 

belief and practice, he said, " They do not drink 
wine nor spirits, as it is held an abomination so to 
do. They do not associate with any that worship 
idols or ptofane the Lord's name, or do dishonor 
to their parents, or commit murder, or bear false 
witness, or who are covetous, proud, or boastful. 
They were particularly careful in the education of 
their children, and in their behavior. But I am 
lost to all these advantages. Since my bondage I 
am become corrupt, and I beg Almighty God to 
lead me into the path that is proper for me, for he 
alone knows the secrets of my heart, and what I 
am in need of." 

Soon after he came into Mr. Anderson's posses- 
sion it was discovered that he was not the dull, 
ignorant being that many of his companions in 
bondage were. At first he was put to perform any 
menial duties in which his services happened to 
be required about the premises of his master; but 
accident brought to light the fact that the young 
African was very skillful in the use of the pen, and 
clever in all questions of figures, solving difficult 
arithmetical problems with great facility. He was 
observed to be frequently engaged in writing, but 
it was in characters that none about him could 
understand. When he had learned to speak the 
language of the country he had been brought to, 
and could enter into conversation with those about 
him, although he volunteered no information, yet, 
in answer to inquiries addressed to him, it be- 
came known that he had been a person of some 
consideration in his own country, and had been 



346 Romance Without Fiction. 

favored with educational advantages of a superior 
kind. 

The master into whose hands he had fallen was 
a rising man in the country. His business, small 
at first, was assuming greatly enlarged proportions. 
Unable himself, having been favored with slender 
advantages of education in his early days, to do 
much in the way of book-keeping, he soon began 
to avail himself of the superior knowledge and 
ability possessed by his slave, Edward Donlan, 
and the management of all the books and accounts 
pertaining to the business gradually fell into his 
hands. Although he understood the English lan- 
guage, and could speak it correctly, he could not 
so readily write it ; but being perfectly famil- 
iar with Arabic, and able to write it in beautiful 
style, he adopted the plan of keeping all his mas- 
ter's books' and accounts in that language. For 
many years the slave knew far more of the details 
of the business than the master himself. The 
books were sometimes exhibited to strangers as a 
curiosity, and many marveled at their beauty, re- 
garding with pitying eyes the dark, sorrowful- 
looking man who was capable of such handiwork. 
When the accounts had to be sent out to parties 
indebted to the firm, it was an easy matter for the 
slave-clerk, with the assistance of an amanuensis, 
to turn the Arabic into English. Thus, for thirty 
years, the large growing business went on, perfect 
confidence existing between the master and his 
slave. 

For all this faithful and valuable service what 



The Kidnapped Noble. 347 

did the young African noble receive in the way of 
remuneration ? Just what was given to those who 
had no ability for any thing but to wield the hoe 
— a poor comfortless shelter in the negro quarters, 
a suit or two of coarse garments in the year, and a 
bare supply of the commonest kind of food ; in 
fact, the wages of a horse, just what was abso- 
lutely necessary to sustain life, and keep him up 
to the duty that his master's interests required at 
his hands. True, Mr. Anderson did not superadd 
to all this, as many slaveholders did, the frequent 
application of the scourge and the gyves, and the 
interposition of his authority to keep his slave 
from obtaining religious instruction, and hinder 
his praying and breathing his sorrows to the 
throne of God. Nor did he do this with any of . 
his slaves. Therefore Mr. Anderson enjoyed the 
reputation of being a kind and indulgent slave- 
master. 

For thirty long years poor kidnapped Abou Beer 
Sadiki cherished fond remembrances of the sunny 
home from which he had been stolen, and nursed 
his sorrow in secret. Few can understand how 
dense was the darkness resting upon that wounded 
spirit through all this protracted period — darkness 
somewhat lessened by the blessed hopes inspired 
by the Gospel that he heard at the Methodist 
chapel, where it was his chief delight to attend. 
At length the time came when a new and cheer- 
ing light began to fall across the path that lay be- 
fore him. The Christian philanthropy of Britain 
had risen in its irresistible might to assail the 



348 Romance Without Fiction. 

stronghold of the oppressors, and the cruel system 
that plundered and wasted nearly a million of hu- 
man beings, under the sanction of British law, was 
tottering to its fall. Whispers about freedom, the 
utterance of which had hitherto been regarded 
and dealt with as a capital crime, began to circu- 
late freely, and soon there was rejoicing through 
all the land when' it could no longer be concealed 
that the day of redemption was drawing nigh, and 
that the time had been fixed by the Government 
at home when liberty should be proclaimed 
throughout the land, and slavery,' after a few years 
of probationary servitude, should be finally done 
away. 

To Abou Beer these glad tidings of great joy to 
multitudes appeared to bring but a small degree 
of gladness, for hope had almost died within him. 
His spirit, bruised and crushed beneath the weight 
of woe that had been pressing upon it for thirty 
years, seemed to have lost every thing like elas- 
ticity, and to be incapable of rising from its pros- 
tration. He remained quiet, passive, and gloomy, 
as he had been before, amid the preparations for 
the great event of emancipation which gladdened 
so many hearts around him. But the Lord, in his 
gracious providence, was raising up for him an 
active and powerful friend. 

Among other arrangements considered needful 
for the proper carrying out of the important act 
for the abolition of colonial slavery was the ap- 
pointment of stipendiary magistrates, to be sent 
out from England, by whom the new law should 



The Kidnapped Noble. 349 

be chiefly administered. A considerable number 
of gentlemen were selected for this purpose, whose 
position in life, character, and education marked 
them out as suitable for the important trust that 
was to be confided to them. It would occupy too 
much space, and scarcely be in accordance with 
the design of this paper, to tell how many of these 
excellent and noble-minded men were worried out 
of life, or compelled to quit their office in disgust, 
by the vile conspiracies of the slav^holding fac- 
tion. Facilities for annoying and worrying the 
stipendiary magistrates were designedly afforded 
to evil-minded men by the pro-slavery colonial 
Legislature in framing and passing the local abo- 
lition act. They were compelled to pass the law 
to abolish slavery, or forfeit all claim to a share of 
the compensation money. But in doing it they 
studied to render the position of the new magis- 
trates as difficult and disagreeable as possible, and 
interposed as many- obstacles as they could to im- 
pede the new magistrates in the performance of 
their duty. Some of these men who gave noble 
promise of usefulness soon died, worn out by per- 
plexity, disappointment, and trouble, leaving fam- 
ilies to mourn their loss. OtherSj unable to en- 
dure the unceasing worry and opposition, and the 
vulgar insolence to which they were exposed, 
soon relinquished their appointments, and re- 
turned home in chagrin and disgust. 

Among the latter was Dr. Madden, the accom- 
plished author of a book of " Travels in the East," 
who had accepted the appointment in the hope of 



350 Romance Without Fiction. 

being useful to a suffering class of his fellow-men. 
Dr. Madden was a gentleman and a scholar, a 
man of talent and research, who had traveled ex- 
tensively both in Europe and in the East. As the 
most important of all these magisterial appoint- 
ments in Jamaica, Dr. Madden had been selected 
by the governor, because of his distinguished abili- 
ties and acquirements, to be the stipendiary mag- 
istrate at Kingston, the commercial capital of the 
colony. But he found the position one of great 
difficulty, and was exposed to so much insult and 
opposition, which the law gave him no power to 
hold in check, that, after filling the office one year, 
he resigned it and returned to England, to the 
regret of all who were concerned in seeing justice 
done to the long-oppressed race. After his return 
from Jamaica Dr. Madden published a series of 
letters, written during his residence there, in two 
volumes, entitled " Twelve Months' Residence in 
the West Indies." The letters are written in a 
lively and attractive style, and give varied infor- 
mation concerning the West Indies, particularly 
of Jamaica and his connection with that island. 
The publication, now out of print, possesses value, 
as showing the condition of things and the state of 
public feeling in Jamaica when the memorable 
Emancipation Act began to take effect.* 

It was during Dr. Madden's administration in 

Kingston that Mr. Anderson presented himself at 

the office of the special magistrate, accompanied 

by Edward Donlan, for the purpose of having his 

* See note at the end of this chapter. 



The Kid?tapped Noble. 351 

slave sworn as a constable on his master's proper- 
ty, in accordance with the new law that was about 
to substitute the apprenticeship of the negroes in 
the stead of slavery. Dr. Madden, being himself 
an Oriental scholar, was surprised to see this 
grave-looking negro, in whose external appear- 
ance there was little to distinguish him from 
many others who came on a similar errand, ex- 
cept an unusual sobriety and an air of intelligence 
not common to them, signing his name in well- 
written Arabic, not as Edward Donlan, the name 
given by the master, but "Abou Beer Sadiki." 
The interest he took in all Oriental matters, and 
the unusual circumstance of one in Donlan's con- 
dition being acquainted with Arabic, and able to 
write it in very superior style, induced the magis- 
trate to enter into conversation with him, and 
question him concerning his former history. His 
intelligent replies satisfied Dr. Madden that he 
had before him a case of more than ordinary in- 
terest, but he could not there, upon the bench, 
and surrounded by a busy, bustling crowd, enter 
so fully into the matter as he resolved to do at the 
earliest opportunity. 

The following day Donlan, at the request of 
Dr. Madden, attended upon him at his own house, 
and gave him all the particulars of his former life 
as recorded substantially in the preceding pages. 
Afterward he gave him his history, written in Ara- 
bic, a translation of which, by Dr. Madden, was 
subsequently published in several of the island 
newspapers. The doctor, who had conceived a 



352 Romance Without Fiction. 

great friendship for the kidnapped Donlan, said 
concerning him, " He became a frequent visitor at. 
my house in his master's leisure time. I found 
the geographical part of his story quite correct, 
and I soon discovered that his attainments as an 
Arabic scholar were the least of his merits. I 
found him a person of excellent conduct, of great 
discernment and discretion. I think if I wanted 
advice on any important matter, in which it re- 
quired extreme prudence and a high sense of 
moral rectitude to qualify the possessor to give 
counsel, I would as soon have recourse to the ad- 
vice of this poor negro as any person I know." 

Among the provisions of the law changing the 
state of the slaves to that of apprentices for a term 
of years, there was an arrangement which gave the 
apprentices a right, on a fair valuation, of buying 
out the unexpired term of their bondage. It was 
an objectionable part of this arrangement that it 
was not left to the special magistrates, but local 
planters and merchant magistrates were to be called 
in to assist in the appraisement. This was a cause 
of endless trouble and difficulty, for, open as they 
were to all sorts of local influence, anfl able to 
interpose the most unreasonable obstacles, it was 
very seldom that these cases could be brought to 
a fair and equitable settlement. Moreover the 
arrangement was such as to make all the excel- 
lences of character and conduct belonging to the 
apprentice work for his disadvantage. A worth- 
less slave or apprentice could get his liberty on 
comparatively easy terms ; but the good and faith- 



The Kidnapped Noble. 353 

ful found that their excellent qualities were made 
by a crude and unjust law the chief barriers to 
their freedom. The better the slave the more 
valuable he became to his employer, and the larger 
the sum required for his liberty. 

Dr. Madden became so interested in his slave 
friend Donlan that he resolved to effect his im- 
mediate freedom, and assist him to return to the 
home from which he had been so wrongfully -torn 
away. But this difficulty stared him in the face. 
He knew that Donlan's services were invaluable to 
his owner, and expected that a very high valua- 
tion would be put upon the unexpired term of his 
servitude, thus making the very qualities that 
fitted him for freedom the chief obstacles to his 
gaining it. But he thought it likely that when 
the circumstances of Donlan's case came to be 
publicly known many kind-hearted persons would 
respond to the appeal which he determined to 
make on the slave's behalf, and come forward with 
subscriptions to assist him in the accomplishment 
of his benevolent purpose. Some endeavored to 
discourage him by reminding him how invaluable 
the slave's services were to Mr. Anderson, and 
that it was scarcely possible that he could for any 
amount of remuneration speedily obtain a clerk to 
fill Donlan's place in the counting-house as effi- 
ciently as he filled it. All this would have to be 
considered in the appraisement. Others told him 
that some years before an attempt had been made 
to purchase Donlan's freedom without success. 
The Duke of Montebello when he visited Jamaica 



354 Romance Without Fiction. 

had chanced to become acquainted with Mr. An- 
derson's slave-clerk and his history, and would 
have paid a large price for his liberty. But no 
price he could offer would induce the owner to 
give up his " property." And although the duke 
endeavored to avail himself of the powerful influ- 
ence of the Colonial Office, to his great chagrin 
and disappointment he failed to accomplish his 
benevolent design of restoring the kidnapped one 
to his friends and home. The grasp of the slave- 
holder on his stolen property could not be 
unloosed. 

All this was disheartening ; but Dr. Madden 
was not a man to be easily turned from any pur- 
pose on which he had set his heart. The slave- 
holder might be greedy, and have influence to 
succeed in getting a heavy price put upon the lib- 
erty of his bondman. But that was all. He could 
not now, as in the case of the Duke of Montebello, 
absolutely refuse to let him go on any terms. The 
hard grip of the owner upon the unfortunate slave 
was so far relaxed by force of law that a golden key 
could now set him free whether the master was 
willing or not. After a few weeks' delay Dr. Mad- 
den, with some misgivings as to the reception 
he should meet, but determined in his purpose, 
presented himself at the residence of Mr. Ander- 
son. He frankly stated what his views and inten- 
tions were with regard to Donlan, and expressed 
his desire to negotiate with the master a private 
bargain for the slave's release. 

It is to the credit of Mr. Anderson, as it was 



The Kidnapped Noble. 355 

very much to the satisfaction of his visitor, that he 
would not aggravate the injury of having held 
Edward Donlan in slavery through about thirty 
years of unrequited toil by the further wrong of 
exacting a large sum to let him now go free. 
When the doctor expressed his wish to negotiate 
for Donlan's release, that he might return to his 
own country, the owner said, " You need say no 
more on the subject, sir. The man is valuable to 
me ; his services are worth more to me than 
those of negroes for whom I gave three hundred 
pounds. But the man has been a good servant to 
me— a faithful and a good negro — and I will take 
no money for him ; I will give him his liberty." 
Dr. Madden pressed him to name any reasonable 
sum for his release, but he persisted in refusing 
to receive anything in the way of indemnity for 
Donlan's services. 

I do not wish to detract in any degree from the 
generosity of this act of Mr. Anderson, which was 
greatly lauded at the time, and by Dr. Madden 
himself as a singular act of liberality. Multi- 
tudes of slave-owners in that gentleman's position 
would have stood out resolutely for the utmost 
value of Donlan's services to him, as an appren- 
ticed laborer, for the several years during which 
the law bound him to his master. And Mr. An- 
derson kindly abandoned his claim and exacted 
nothing ! But this fact has to be viewed in the 
light of another, by which its generosity appears • 
to be somewhat diminished. From the time that 

Donlan was kidnapped from his home and brought 

23 



35& Romance Without Fiction. 

a fettered slave to Jamaica, Mr. Anderson, know- 
ing well that he was buying stolen property for a 
sum of money not very large, as he bought him 
untried and unseasoned from the slave-ship, exer- 
cised the force of a wicked and oppressive law to 
make Donlan his slave, and compel him, without 
any choice of his own, for thirty years to employ 
all his energies of mind and body for his (Ander- 
son's) benefit without wages or reward. For three 
decades of human life he had without scruple 
plundered the poor negro of his liberty, time, and 
labor, and all that is dear to man ; and he now 
abstained from further plundering him of a consid- 
erable amount of money that he might be suffered 
to go free from his service and enjoy the liberty 
which is the natural and inalienable right of every 
man. Many of Mr. Anderson's compeers would 
have acted otherwise. It was a kind and degree 
of liberality quite unusual with them. But I con- 
fess I am not sharp-sighted enough to discover 
much of real generosity in the act. It seems to 
me to be on a par with the generosity of the high- 
way plunderer, who robs his victim of all he has 
about him, but abstairfs from the further injury of 
depriving him of his life. 

The day following that on which Dr. Madden 
had the interview with Donlan's owner was ap- 
pointed for completing the act of manumission at 
the public office of the special magistrate. It had 
become known in the city that " Mr. Anderson's 
finely-educated slave, who had kept his books so 
well in Arabic," was about to be emancipated, 



The Kid? tapped Noble. 357 

and a large number of persons of different classes 
and complexions assembled to witness the cere- 
mony. The scene was one of great interest. On 
the bench were Dr. Madden and another magis- 
trate. Beside the bench stood the negro, of ex- 
alted rank in his own country, in the act of re- 
ceiving his liberty after being so many years sub- 
jected to the evils of slave-life. Near him was a 
venerable and pleasant-looking man, with the 
snows of sixty years scattered upon his head, pre- 
pared to do an act of tardy justice to one who, 
through half the term of his own life, had been 
faithfully serving him with his might. The papers, 
which had been carefully prepared under Dr. Mad- 
den's own inspection, were produced. After a 
a brief address from the bench on the interesting 
case which had called them together, Mr. Ander- 
son stepped forward and affixed his signature to 
the important documents, and Abou Beer Sadiki, 
amid the plaudits of the deeply interested specta- 
tors, stood forth a free man to receive the hearty 
congratulations of many who had long been ac- 
quainted with the excellent character and abilities 
of Mr. Anderson's negro clerk. 

On the next day a full account of these pro- 
ceedings was published in the daily newspapers, 
together with a translation of the history of him- 
self which the liberated slave had written in Ara- 
bic. Accompanying these there also appeared a 
short, forcible appeal from Dr. Madden to the 
liberality of the Kingston public, setting forth 
the excellent character of Donlan, and inviting 



358 Romance Without Fiction. 

assistance on his behalf. In a few days he had the 
satisfaction of placing twenty pounds in the hands 
of his negro friend, the fruit of this appeal. The 
good doctor did what the master should have 
done who had derived such large profit from the 
services of the slave. " When thou sendest him 
out free from thee thou shalt not let him go away 
empty." 

The kindness of the benevolent magistrate did 
not end here. Through his interposition means 
were obtained for sending back the much-wronged 
man to the home he had through all his suffering 
career been yearning after with intense desire. 
After bidding a loving farewell to his Christian 
friends and associates, he took his departure from 
the land of his bondage. After some months 
had elapsed we hear of his safe arrival at Sierra 
Leone, and of the love and gratitude he cherished 
for those who had befriended him during his 
slave-life in Jamaica. It was stated that he had 
experienced abundant kindness in that British 
colony on his native shores which he had reached 
on his homeward route, and he trusted in the 
Lord to direct his course, and bring him safely to 
the end of his toilsome journey. He spoke also 
of being about to set off into the interior of the 
continent on his way to Timbuctoo. That was the 
last we heard of Edward Donlan, or Abou Beer 
Sadiki. Whether he reached his home in safety, 
and never found an opportunity of communication 
with his former friends, or perished by disease or 
enemies by the way ; or whether he fell again into 



The Kidnapped Noble. 359 

the hands of lurking men-stealers, and was borne 
away across the sea to some slave-land — Cuba, 
Porto Rico, or Brazil — there to languish out the 
miserable remnant of a strangely checkered life, 
in more cruel bondage than that from which he 
was redeemed, we cannot tell. Probably we 
shall never know what became of the lovable 
liberated negro until that great day when all 
secrets shall be revealed. 

Note. — One of Dr. Madden's letters concerning Jamaica 
was written in rhyme, a sort of parody on one of the produc- 
tions of Lord Byron. It was addressed to Dr. William Beat- 
tie, and we produce it, as showing how Jamaica appeared in 
Dr. Madden's eyes in 1834. 

" My dear Sir, 

" I beg leave to ask you, 
Know you the land where pimentos and chills 

Are emblems of tempers as hot as the clime, 
Where the blaze of the sun quite darkens the lilies, 

And bleaches the roses of youth in their prime ? 
Know you the land of mosquitoes and jiggers, 
Of Sambos unchain'd, and uncombable niggers ; 
Where the innocent cockroach exhales a-perfume 
But a little less fragrant than ' Gul in her bloom ; ' 
Where the breath of the sea-breeze comes over the sense 
Like the blast from the mouth of some furnace intense ; 
Where oysters, like cabbages, grow upon trees, 
And cows * even browse in the depths of the seas ; 
Where the hue of the cheek, from the sallow Mestee 
To the yellow Mulatto, though varied it be, 
In beauty may vie with the tint sweetly tann'd 
Of a Venus from China just newly japann'd ; 

* The monati, or sea-cow, 



360 Romance Without Fiction. 

Where the climate is hot, and the nights may be cool, 

But the fevers are rife, and the grave- yards are full ; 

Where the butter is soft and as melting in June 

As the hearts of the languishing maidens Quadroon ; 

Where caloric abounds both in water and wine, 

1 And all save the spirit of rum is divine.' 

Where the cocoa and yam are the choicest of fruit, 

And the voice of the grasshopper never is mute ; 

Where the land-crab in highest perfection is seen, 

And the fat of the turtle is the brightest of green ; 

Where the mutton, too often manufactured from goats, 

Is killed the same day it is thrust down our throats ; 

Where the man who is thirsty may drink sangaree, 

Till his liver is spoil'd, as at home he'd drink tea ; 

Where no one of character, be who he may, 

Can ever eat less than two breakfasts a day ; 

And no man of courage but laughs at the thought 

Of his stomach presuming to cav il at aught ; 

Where the coup de soleil is a true coup de grace ; 

And the fever call'd yellow's a knocker of brass 

On the door of the tomb, where one enters to-day, 

And to-morrow, forgotten, is left to decay ; 

Where the freedom of trade is a thing that's gone by 

And the dear name of Guinea recalls but a sigh ; 

Where liberty flourish'd, and every man white 

Might once lick his nigger from morning till night; 

But now where the Newcastle doctrine's unknown, 

And no man can do as he likes with his own ; 

Where Buxton the wretch, and Macaulay the sinner, 

Are duly reviled every day after dinner ; 

Where ' the saints' by the bushas are curs'd most devoutly, 

And the Whigs by the planters are rated as stoutly ; 

Where a paper the amplest encouragement claims 

Which calls its opponent the vilest of names ; 

Where lips have no language sufficiently ill 

To lavish on Mulgrave for passing the bill ; 

Where loyalty waits on each governor landing, 

But has not a leg at departure for standing ; 



The Kidnapped Noble. 361 

Where the extraction of sugar doth clearly explain 

Why the blacks are considered descendants of Cain ; 

In a word, where in all things both buckras and blacks 

Are by fits and by starts either rigid or lax ; 

And in faith, as in politics, never it seems, 

Are content if their notions are not in extremes ? 

'Tis the clime of the West ! 'Tis the island of palms ! 

'Tis the region of strife and the country of psalms ! 

'Tis the land of the sun, all whose fierceness prevails 

O'er the gravest discussions and the simplest details ! 

'Tis the home of our hopes for the African race ! 

'Tis the tomb of the system that brought us disgrace ! 

And wild are the words of its mourners, who rave, 

And would roll back the stone that is placed on its grave." 



362 Romance Without Fiction. 



XVIII. 

Pursuit of Knowledge Under Diffieultiea 

Is there one whom difficulties dishearten — who bends to the storm? 
He will do little. Is there one who will conquer ? That kind of man 
never fails. — John Hunter. 

See first that the design is wise and just ; 
That ascertained, pursue it resolutely, 
Do not for one repulse forego the purpose 
That you resolve to effect. 



% 



URING the troubled times which followed 
(JO-/ the reign of terror in Jamaica called martial 
law, in 183 1-2, and before the abolition of 
slavery by .which it was shortly followed, the 
exigencies of the mission required my removal 
from the north side of Jamaica to a station on the 
south side ; where the missionary had been dis- 
qualified by sickness, and compelled to remove to 
a more genial locality. 

It was a time of fierce persecution, and the 
fiery trials through which we had been called to 
pass had greatly endeared pastors and people to 
each other as sufferers in common, so that the time 
of parting was to both fraught with deep regret. 
While I was occupied in packing my books for the 
journey, a gentle knock upon the door of my study 
announced a visitor. When told to " come in," 
the door slowly opened, and a negro woman of 



Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties. 363 

middle age timidly advanced. In her I recognized 
one who was well known in the society at that 
place as a person of deep and earnest piety. She 
was a slave belonging to a family that cared little 
about religion, and who did not scruple to throw 
many hinderances in her way with regard to attend- 
ance upon religious ordinances. They designedly 
arranged her duties so as to keep their dependent 
fully occupied, and leave her only very few and 
brief opportunities of attending to the religious 
duties she loved so well. But the fervent, unob- 
trusive piety of the humble slave-woman, and the 
clear, intelligent statements of Christian experience 
she gave at her class-meeting, and in the love-feasts 
of the society, had caused her to be well known in 
the Church she belonged to, and the meek and 
quiet spirit she exhibited on all occasions, and her 
successful efforts to win souls to Christ, had pro- 
cured for her in more than an ordinary degree the 
respect of all who were acquainted with her. 
Betsey Taylor was the name she bore. Her 
features were plain and coarse, exhibiting much 
of the true African type, but were rendered al- 
most beautiful with the radiancy of the settled 
peace and love that ruled the heart within. 
There was the stamp of heaven upon that coal- 
black face. 

Within a few months past the missionaries in 
that locality had been consigned to a loathsome 
prison for preaching the Gospel, or assailed with 
brutal violence, and their lives placed in jeopardy. 
Some of the sanctuaries of God had been shut up 



364 Romance Without Fiction. 

by magisterial intolerance, and others pulled down 
or burned to ashes by planter mobs. And in these 
seasons of sore trial none were more prompt to 
sympathize with the persecuted pastors than Bet- 
sey Taylor, or more ready to tender such expres- 
sions of regard as could be conveyed by offerings 
of fruit, etc., to the ministers who had been God's 
instruments in bringing her to the enjoyment of 
religion, which was to her more precious than ru- 
bies, and greater gain than fine gold. 

When I lifted my eyes to the opening door to 
greet my visitor it was Betsey's pleasant, homely 
face that I saw beaming upon me. " Good morn- 
ing, Betsey," I said as she entered the study. 
" Good morning, minister," she replied. " Me 
come to ask one favor, and hope minister will not 
think me too bold." 

Betsey had so far profited by her position as 
servant in an opulent white family that she spoke 
less broken English than most of those who were 
in similar circumstances around her. " It will af- 
ford me pleasure, Betsey," I replied, " to render 
you any service in my power. What is it you 
wish me to do for you ? " " I very sorry that 
minister is going away, and I shall be very glad if 
minister before he go will give me one book that 
minister use himself. I shall keep it always for 
'member minister." " I should like to give you 
something as a keepsake, Betsey, but I do not 
think a book would be the best and most useful 
thing, for, unless I am under a mistake, you could 
not make any use of it, as you have never learned 



Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties, 365 

to read." "True, minister; but, please God, I in- 
tend for learn to read, and if minister will give me 
one book, minister will see, when he come back 
this way, that I able for read him."- 

I inquired of her how she was going to learn to 
read, and from what quarter she hoped to obtain 
help in her undertaking. In answer to my in- 
quiries, I gathered from her that she had no time 
to go to the Sunday-school, nor would the family 
that owned her permit her to do so. It was very 
seldom she could get time to attend the chapel 
services, and she was often prevented from going 
to her class. Nor had she any hope that any per- 
son in the family that held her in bondage would 
afford her the slightest assistance, as, in accord- 
ance with old-time prejudices, they did not ap- 
prove of slaves being taught to read. I was curi- 
ous to find out what means of instruction she ex- 
pected to avail herself of, but could only get the 
information that " if minister would give her the 
book she would learn for read it." 

Although she mentioned no particular book, I 
could perceive that Betsey's desires pointed to one 
of the books used in the chapel services ; either 
the hymn-book or the Bible, beyond which she 
had probably no idea concerning books at all. 
She seemed to think it very desirable to be able 
to use her book when she went to the house of 
God, and comfort herself with its truths in her 
own humble room, 

I had on hand a quarto Bible which I could 
spare for the purpose. Reaching the precious 



366 Romance Without Fiction. 

volume from my book-shelves, I said, " Here, 
Betsey, is the book of books, God's own word, 
which he has given to make us wise unto salva- 
tion in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour 
Jesus Christ, and as you tell me you are deter- 
mined to learn to read it, I shall have great pleas- 
ure in making you a present of it. I trust it will 
be a great comfort and help to you all the days of 
your life." "O minister," she said, as tears of 
gratitude rolled down her sable cheeks, " I so 
thankful. I never forget minister, and never for- 
get to ask Massa Jesus to bless minister as long as 
me live." I handed her the book, which she re- 
ceived with a deep courtesy, and as she left the 
room I heard her exclaim with emotion, as she 
hugged her treasure to her bosom, " Me rich for 
true." 

Two or three years had elapsed before a long 
and wasting illness, produced by the poisonous 
malaria of St. Thomas-in-the-East, caused me to 
revisit that part of the island for a change, hoping 
that, amid the beautiful scenes, the remembrance 
of which was fondly cherished, and the kind at- 
tention of loving friends, I should recruit the 
physical energies which repeated and lengthened 
attacks of fever had woefully impaired. During 
the time I had been away from that part of the 
island great and important changes had occurred, 
changes which the most sanguine scarcely imag- 
ined could have taken place so soon. The sys- 
tem of human slavery which seemed to be so 
firmly established, that many years must elapse 



Pursuit of Knowledge tender Difficulties. 367 

before it could be uprooted, had been swept away 
by the voice of an indignant nation. Liberty had 
been proclaimed through all the land, and Brit- 
ain's bondmen had passed into that intermediate 
state of apprenticeship which was to precede their 
absolute freedom — the happy result of the san- 
guinary proceedings and vindictive persecutions I 
had witnessed when I was in the same neighbor- 
hood before. 

One of my earliest visitors, after landing from 
the schooner which conveyed me round the west 
end of the island, was Betsey Taylor, who came 
laden with oranges, grapes, and a variety of other 
fruits, as a grateful offering to her afflicted minis- 
ter, and a face glowing with pleasure that she was 
once more permitted to look upon him again. In 
the same tray that contained the fruits, nicely, 
covered up with a snowy napkin, there was Bet- 
sey's cherished Bible, which she had brought for 
the purpose of showing minister that she had ful- 
filled her promise of learning to read. She evi- 
dently expected that I should request her to give 
auricular demonstration of her newly acquired 
accomplishment. And I was myself curious to 
ascertain what progress she had made in learning, 
amid the difficulties and discouragements that 
surrounded her in her enslaved condition. 
"Well, Betsey," said I, "it affords me the great- 
est satisfaction to know that you have been able 
to accomplish your purpose in learning to read. 
I confess I hardly expected that, situated as you 
were, you would be able to carry out your design, 



368 Romance Without Fiction. 

and I shall be glad to hear you read a chapter in 
your Bible, that I may judge how far you have 
succeeded." " I thought minister would like for 
hear," she replied, " and so I brought the book." 
Betsey having fixed upon her nose a pair of spec- 
tacles with large round glasses not remarkable for 
their elegance, she proceeded to read, under my 
direction, several of the psalms, and chapters from 
various books of the New Testament. This she 
did with a fluency and correct pronunciation, and 
an evident appreciation of the meaning of what 
she read, that excited my astonishment, and from 
which I concluded that she must have obtained 
the help of some kind instructor, who had taken 
great pains with her. " I am really very much 
rejoiced, Betsey, to find that you can read so well. 
You must have obtained help that you did not 
expect; I should like to know who has been your 
teacher." " O plenty people help me, minister;" 
and then she proceeded to enlighten me concern- 
ing her course of study in her own simple style, 
by a relation which afforded me equal surprise and 
pleasure. 

Her time, it appeared, had been no more at her 
own disposal after I went away than it had been 
before. She had never been able to go to Sun- 
day-school, and none in the house of her bondage 
would afford her the slightest aid, but rather 
scoffed at the desire she expressed to learn to 
read her Bible. Nor could she find any time, so 
entirely was she occupied in her unrequited serv- 
itude, to go to those who would cheerfully have 



Pursttit of Knowledge under Difficulties. 369 

given her the instruction she desired. But " where 
there is a will there is a way," and Betsey was 
bent upon finding it. And she did find it. Bet- 
sey had set her heart on gaining the ability to 
read God's own word for herself. What had been 
done by others might be done by her, and she 
was determined to try and try until she had 
accomplished her purpose. By the energy of a 
determined will she overcame all obstacles, and 
triumphed where a multitude would have been 
baffled and given up in despair, 

First of all, after getting the Bible, she went 
with the first coin she could call her own to a 
store where, among all kinds of merchandise, they 
sold books for children, and requested to be sup- 
plied with a book "for learn for read.' 5 She was 
first offered a spelling-book, but she had not suffi- 
cient money to purchase that, for the price was a 
"maccaroni," (a shilling,) and she had only " one 
fi'penny," a coin that amounted to threepence in 
English money. The fi'penny was ultimately in- 
vested in a small primer, which she was told was 
the proper book for a beginner to learn to read, 
and the seller kindly pointed out to Betsey where 
she was to commence. Happy in its possession, 
Betsey departed with her new treasure, and at 
once on her way home commenced the process of 
study she intended to pursue. She could of her- 
self make nothing of the strange-looking things 
called letters, which she was told must first be 
learned. Fixing her regard upon the first of the 
lot, she cast her eyes around, and discovering 



370 Romance Without Fiction. 

some person in the street that she thought could 
give her the desired information, she went up to 
him, and, dropping a respectful courtesy, pointed 
to the capital letter A, and said, " Please, massa, 
tell me what dat 'tan' for ? " Having received 
the information she sought, she pondered it well 
until the letter became quite familiar to her eye, 
and she was sure she would know it again wher- 
ever she met with it. She then proceeded to the 
next, and mastered that in a similar way. And so 
Betsey went on, always placing the book in her 
bosom whenever she went out into the streets, 
and appealing to any one she met who was likely 
to aid her with, " Please, massa, what dat 'tan* 
for ? " 

The alphabet, both large and small, was soon 
mastered, and then Betsey went on to the more 
formidable task of putting the letters together in 
words, laying the public under contribution in 
this as she had done before, and seldom meeting 
with a rebuff. Shrewd and intelligent, and anx- 
ious to learn, she soon began to understand the 
power of the letters, and in a much shorter time 
than many took to gain this elementary knowledge 
who were favored with the advantages of efficient 
instruction, but not so much in earnest to learn 
as Betsey, she surmounted the difficulty, and be- 
gan to spell out chapters in her treasured Bible. 
Thus it was that when I returned to the neigh- 
borhood, after the lapse of somewhat less than 
three years, Betsey could read her Bible with 
perfect fluency, and found it to be a source of 



Pursu it of Knowledge under Difficulties. 371 

inexpressible comfort and profit. She also showed 
me her hymn-book, which she rejoiced in being 
able to use, and assured me that these two books 
were her daily study and her greatest earthly joy. 
She had been able also to read several other 
books which kind friends had lent to her, by 
which she had been greatly aided and strength- 
ened in her Christian life. 

At the termination of the apprenticeship system 
Betsey obtained her entire freedom, and was soon 
in more comfortable and prosperous circumstances 
than she had ever been before. Her superior in- 
telligence and devoted, active piety commended 
her to the notice of the pastors of the Church as 
a suitable person to fill the office of class-leader. 
She was accordingly appointed, and was very use- 
ful "in bringing many young persons of her own 
sex to Christ, and helping them in their Chris- 
tian course. In this capacity she was greatly 
respected by all who knew her, both white and 
black. 

Several times, when on distant stations, a small 
basket came to me containing jars of preserved 
fruit and pickles, but without any note to indicate 
whence they came, and for some years I knew not 
to whom I was indebted for these anonymous 
favors. But having to. travel to the north side 
of the island, where Betsey resided, for the pur- 
pose of taking part in the opening services of 
a new chapel, the grateful negro woman came 
to see me, and then I discovered, from several 

questions she put concerning them, that these 

24 



372 Romance Without Fiction. 

gifts had been forwarded by her, in token of the 
fervent gratitude she cherished toward the donor 
of the precious volume, which had been her 
greatest earthly treasure, and on which she based 
the hopes of life and immortality that filled her 
with unspeakable joy. 



Blighted Lives, 373 



XIX. 

Blighted Lives. 

Beware the bowl ! Though rich and bright 

Its rubies flash upon the sight, 

An adder coils its depth beneath, 

Whose lure is woe, whose sting is death. — Steeet. 



■%} 




"ITHIN the tropics the danger of forming 
intemperate habits is greater than in a 
milder clime. There is a more rapid 
exhaustion of the fluids in the system by in- 
creased perspiration, requiring a more frequent 
supply to meet the demands of nature, and if re- 
course be had to beverages of the alcoholic kind, 
it requires but little sagacity to see that danger is 
hidden there. It is also the natural effect of a 
tropical climate to produce a degree of lassitude, 
of which the^ denizens of cooler regions are un- 
conscious, except occasionally, when the fierce 
heat of a midsummer day brings them a tem- 
porary experience of those relaxing influences 
which are constantly felt, in a greater or less de- 
gree, within the torrid zone. One of the effects 
of alcoholic drink is to counteract the lassitude 
for a brief season, and produce a considerable 
degree of artificial excitement and energy, which, 
for the time, is exceedingly grateful. But the 
effect is temporary and soon passes away, followed 



374 Romance Without Fiction. 

by a reaction which augments the physical relax- 
ation natural to the climate, and seems to call for 
a renewal of the grateful restorative. Here also 
danger lurks unseen and unsuspected, and it is 
one of the easiest things possible to glide insensi- 
bly into the practice of using dangerous stimu- 
lants, and a habit is formed not easy to be shaken 
off, until all the faculties of man's noble nature 
are ensnared, bound as with fetters of iron, and 
the poor victim finds himself helpless in the grasp 
of a fiend, who seldom relaxes his hold till the 
destruction of both body and soul is accom- 
plished. 

Here lies the greatest danger of Europeans 
within the tropics. That poisonous influences, 
destructive of health and life, proceeding from the 
rapid decomposition both of vegetable and animal 
matter, often load the air, especially in the less 
favored localities, is true ; but the death of vast 
numbers in tropical countries has been ascribed to 
the effect of the climate, that was in fact the result 
of using stimulants, which shortened life in various 
ways, even when there were none of the ordinary 
calamitous results of habitual drunkenness. The 
man whcse business carries him to torrid regions 
will be wise to use no stimulants of the alcoholic 
kind — the Christian missionary above all. Min- 
gling with many cheering scenes of holiness and 
usefulness, which a review of nearly forty years 
spent in bright glowing regions of tropical beauty 
present to him, the writer's memory dwells upon 
others of different character — dark, cheerless, 



Blighted Lives. 375 

mournful — examples of ruined greatness, blighted 
piety, and blasted life, which often bring a shadow 
over his spirit, and constrain him to admonish 
every youthful missionary, and every young man 
whose providential course leads him to the ardent 
regions of the tropics, to stand entirely aloof from 
all danger, from all possibility of being ensnared 
by the demon of intemperance, by a total disuse 
of alcoholic beverages. 

" O, minister ! Mrs. P. begs you to come over, 
for Mr. P. has had a fit." Such was the message 
brought by an intelligent colored girl, one Wednes- 
day afternoon, as a young missionary sat at dinner 
between four and five o'clock, in one of the most 
pleasant towns on the north side of Jamaica, where 
he exercised his pastoral charge surrounded by 
the grand scenery which, all along the northern 
coast, distinguishes that beautiful isle of the 
western sea. 

Among those who have been gathered into the 
little growing church under the missionary's care 
is an intelligent female, black but comely, of polite 
and graceful manner, and as much entitled to be 
spoken of as a lady as many of fairer hue to whom 
that honorable designation is properly applied. 
She was the wife of a white man who has come 
from a distant island to fill a Government situation 
in the town. His office gives him a respectable 
status in society and a comfortable degree of 
emolument. The time has come when com- 
plexional prejudices are so far modified that the 
marriage of a white man with a colored woman is 



376 Romance Without Fiction. 

no longer the strange and anomalous occurrence 
that at one time it was, unfitting him for holding a 
public office, and shutting him out from the more 
aristocratic circles of colonial society. Not a few 
of the most influential men in the land have set 
public opinion at defiance in this respect, and 
married the mothers of their colored families, giv- 
ing their children, who in many instances have re- 
ceived a liberal and refined education, those ad- 
vantages of legitimacy which a wise provision in 
the new marriage law enables them to secure on 
their behalf. This, however, has not been a mar- 
riage of that class ; for both were young, and 
they are without a family. It has been a marriage 
formed on moral grounds. Brought to God 
through the fearful scenes which she witnessed in 
connection with the desolating hurricane of 1831, 
and experiencing the blessedness and the power 
of the spiritual life, the black girl's companionship 
was not to be obtained according to the immoral 
customs which prevailed in the colonies before re- 
ligion stepped in to rescue, refine, and elevate 
degraded womanhood. The white Government 
official proffered honorable marriage to the dark- 
skinned object of his affections. And the marriage 
was a happy one for a while, and would have con- 
tinued so had not Mr. P. unhappily been seduced 
into the deadly drink snare, and contracted the 
sad habit which ruins multitudes for both worlds, 
and brings desolation, poverty, and woe into 
thousands of families. 

Mr. P. respected religion, and, with his wife, 



Blighted Lives, 377 

attended its public ordinances frequently ; but not 
being gifted with the firmness that steadily resists 
temptation, he was easily prevailed upon by 
associates, with whom he was unavoidably 
brought into contact in the course of his official 
duties," to share their indulgences, which fre- 
quently were not confined within the limits of 
moderation. 

The progress of destructive vice is much more 
rapid in some cases than in others. Slowly, and 
by almost imperceptible degrees, some men glide 
into the habit which finally overcomes them, and 
lays a giant grasp upon all their faculties ; while 
others sink swiftly into ruin, and are mastered 
almost without an effort to resist the evil which is 
enslaving to destroy them. So it is with Mr. P. 
He rushed rapidly to destruction, giving himself 
up without restraint to a course of indulgence 
which could only have one swift and fatal result. 
When the missionary who has been referred to 
first made their acquaintance, he ascertained that 
it was about two years since Mr. P. had given him- 
self up to the habit of excess ; and already he had 
become a confirmed inebriate, with whom intoxica- 
tion is the usual condition. He is seldom to be 
found entirely sober, though he manages to get 
through his official duties so as to avoid incurring 
rebuke from his superiors in office. His excellent 
. wife, who is truly attached to him, has wept and 
prayed and persuaded. Whenever she could, she 
has prevailed on him to accompany her to the 
house of prayer ; and there have been times when 



378 Romance Without Fiction. 

he has felt the power of the world. Friends and 
ministers, who could see his danger, havje ventured 
to advise with him. But all remonstrance, all 
effort to arrest him in his path of ruin, has been 
vain. The appetite for stimulants has grown to an 
absorbing passion. His countenance has darkened 
to almost a livid hue ; and he might be met with 
at almost all hours of the day in a state of maudlin 
inebriety, large drops of perspiration upon his 
face, a pitiable example of the effects of intemper- 
ate indulgence. It is not, therefore, a matter of 
surprise when the message is received, " Mrs. P. 
begs you to come over, for Mr. P. has had a fit." 

Accompanied by a brother missionary, who 
happens to be with him on a visit from a distant 
part of the island, the young pastor, without a 
moment's loss of time, responds to the request, 
and is shortly standing by the bedside of the suf- 
ferer. That missionary, in his brief career, has 
witnessed scenes sad and terrible ; for he has seen 
the gallows day after day bearing its dreadful fruit, 
and the bullet and the scourge doing their revolt- ■ 
ing work ; humanity and justice alike trampled 
down, and men boasting of a white skin and a 
liberal education reveling like demons in cruelty 
and bloodshed during " the hell-like saturnalia of 
martial law." But never has he beheld a scene 
so shocking to all his sensibilities as that which 
is now spread before his gaze. For several days 
Mr. P. has been more indisposed than usual, and to 
day he has been too unw r ell to go to his office ; but 
all the time, at short intervals, he has been greedily 



Blighted Lives. 379 

swallowing potent draughts of brandy and water, 
and could not be prevailed upon to take anything 
else, and about four o'clock he suddenly fell pros- 
trate upon the floor of his bedroom. The unhappy 
wife at first supposes it to be the ordinary effect of 
having taken a large quantity of spirit during the 
day. With all convenient speed he is lifted into 
bed ; but the wretched man is in a state of insen- 
sibility ; and the twitching of the features, the 
convulsive jerking of the limbs, the changing 
countenance, and the trembling of the whole 
frame, ^denote that more is the matter than the 
effects of simple intoxication. This becomes still 
more evident when, arousing a little from the tem- 
porary unconsciousness into which he has fallen, 
he sends forth shrieks and cries of agony ; and 
crouching in mortal fear, now on one side of the 
bed and then on the other, and trembling with 
horror till the bedstead shakes and trembles too, 
he tells those who crowd around him that the room 
is full of devils who are come to carry him away. 
It is now the terrified wife sends off to request 
that the minister will be kind enough to come to 
her immediately, and the message reaches him in 
the form already described. 

It is a fearful spectacle upon which his atten- 
tion is fixed. Shriek after shriek reaches his ear as 
with his companion he ascends the stairs. On en- 
tering the room they see the miserable victim of 
alcohol stretched upon the bed, held down by sev- 
eral persons whom the poor wife has been com- 
pelled to summon to her aid. The countenance 



3S0 Romance Without Fiction. 

is livid — almost purple; the eyes, glaring hideous- 
ly, seem ready to start from their sockets ; inex- 
pressible horror is stamped upon every feature ; 
and large drops of perspiration, oozing out from 
every pore, bear witness to the terrible excitement 
that is raging within and must soon exhaust the vi- 
tal energies, for no human strength can long endure 
such a degree of tension. " O, Mr. B. !" cries the 
sufferer with startling energy the moment he catches 
sight of the missionaries entering the chamber, and 
turning toward them with an expression of agoniz- 
ing entreaty, " do save ! O, do save me ! There 
they are ! Don't you see them ? O, do save me from 
them ! Do save me ! " It is a pitiable scene to 
look upon, that man laid prostrate by the destroyer 
in the prime and vigor of lusty, youthful manhood 
— for he could scarcely be more than thirty-two 
» years of age, and was built on a powerful model — 
and raging in the paroxysm of the most aggravated 
type of deliriwn tremens ! In the softest tones of 
sympathizing friendship both ministers endeavor 
to soothe the sufferer, and represent to him that 
the objects of his fear have no reality, and are but 
the creatures of a disturbed imagination. But it 
is all in vain. To him there is awful reality in 
them. His eyes roll in terror to every part of the 
room as he shrinks, first in one direction and then 
in another, from the fearful objects which that 
abused brain invests with shape, and substance, 
and life, and which no other eye beholds. The 
blood of those present seems to curdle and their 
flesh to creep as with terrible earnestness he 



Blighted Lives. 381 

rejects all remonstrance, and in pitiable agony im- 
plores them to save him. Both the missionaries 
successively engage in prayer, holding each a shiv- 
ering hand as they kneel at the bedside, and he 
clings to them as a drowning man will cling in his 
extremity to any substance he can lay his hands 
upon ; but he evidently takes in nothing of the 
meaning of those words which are addressed to 
the throne of mercy on his behalf. His eyes, 
straining with affright, are rolling wildly, now to 
the right, now to the left ; now up, and now straight 
be r ore him. Shrinking as though he would push 
himself through the mattress, all his faculties are 
occupied in following about the room the crea- 
tures of his disordered fancy. And O ! it is a 
hard thing to pray at a death scene like that ! 
We may not place any limits to the boundless love 
and mercy to sinners of the infinitely gracious 
God ; but what hope can there be that prayer will 
be heard, that mercy can be exercised, in a case 
like that ? 

It is, however, our duty to pray; and earnest 
and importunate, and attended by many tears, are 
the supplications that go up from that death cham- 
ber ; and hearty is the amen that now and again 
drops from the lips of those who kneel around as 
the missionaries plead with the Friend of sinners 
for the dying man. Dying he is, and the vail is 
already dropping that is to shut out from him all 
the scenes of this life forever. He has been some- 
what less violent since the ministers of religion 
appeared at his bedside, and his cries for help 



382 Romance Without Fiction. 

have been less agonizing ; but there is no indica- 
tion that he has for a single moment realized the 
idea which has been presented to and urged upon 
him of looking to the Almighty Saviour for help. 
His shattered faculties are incapable of such exer- 
tion as would enable him now, at this last hour, to 
turn to the Crucified, and lay his sins at the foot- 
stool of mercy. The imagination, dominant over 
all the other faculties, is reveling in horrors. It 
has peopled the death chamber with specters and 
goblins and horrible shapes from another world; 
and as these appear to him to flit about and grin 
and mock his misery, and threaten to fall upon 
him and bear him away, he can think of nothing 
else. Soothing remonstrance, entreaty, prayer, 
all are lost upon him ; and the awful words of in- 
spired truth come with irresistible force upon the 
minds of some who look upon that thrilling spec- 
tacle : " The harvest is past, the summer is ended, 
and we are not saved." It is almost impossible to 
avoid the conviction that this is the case with that 
poor ruined, wretched victim of a vicious habit, 
whose spirit, without one ray of hope dawning upon 
it, is trembling upon the confines of another world. 
A terrible scene is the chamber of the dying, when 
there is no peace of God to sustain, no hope of 
eternal life to bless and cheer the soul that is 
passing to an unchanging destiny. 

Two or three hours have elapsed since the min- 
isters of religion entered the room, and the hour 
is at hand when the public service of the sanctua- 
ry requires their presence. But it is difficult to 



Blighted Lives, 383 

get away. " Don't go ! don't leave me ! " shrieks 
the dying man ; and he clings to them with the 
energy of despair. They remind him that it is 
the usual evening for public service, and promise 
to return immediately after its close, but he holds 
on with all the tenacity of which his fast-failing 
strength is capable. Again they kneel down for a 
few moments, and commend the sufferer to God in 
prayer and depart, purposing to shorten the service, 
and hasten back to do what they can to alleviate 
the horrors of the scene they have unwillingly 
quitted. Knowing that patients of that class do 
sometimes rally, from a condition of great apparent 
extremity, they have no apprehension that the end 
is so near as the event shows it to be. The service 
occupies but an hour, and without losing a mo- 
ment, as soon as it is ended they hasten to the 
house of mourning. But the curtain has fallen, 
and the tragedy is closed. They are surprised, 
startled, shocked, as they enter the house, to re- 
ceive the intelligence that the spirit, with all its 
dread accountability attaching to it, has just that 
moment fled to the presence of its Maker. 

They enter the room, and a senseless heap of 
clay is all that remains of the man they left there 
so lately. The trembling of the limbs has ceased ; 
the straining eyeballs have shrunk back into their 
sockets, and the lids are closed over them ; the 
livid, purple features of the countenance, lately so 
fearfully agitated, have settled in the stillness of 
death, and a friend is tying a white cambric 
handkerchief round the head to support the fallen 



384 Romance Without Fiction. 

jaw. From the moment the ministers left the 
room, the loud shrieks of "the sufferer recom- 
menced, and pointing here and there, all round 
the room, to the frightful creatures of his imagi- 
nation, he crouched from one side of the bed to 
the other, and would have thrown himself off it 
had he not been forcibly held down. In agony- 
most distressing to behold he continued to call 
upon those around him to save him from them, 
until his strength became exhausted. At length, 
convulsed and shaking in every part of his body, 
he sank into a state of comparative quietude, 
gasping, and his eyes staring and rolling about the 
room, until a short time before the ministers re- 
turned to the house, when all the powers of life 
suddenly collapsed, the spirit passed to its desti- 
ny, and the life so sadly abused — such a woeful 
mistake— came to an end. There was one, at 
least, of those who looked upon that mournful 
scene who turned away from it realizing, as he had 
never done before, the awfulness of a life blasted 
by intemperance, and resolving that his example 
and influence through life should be given to dis- 
countenance the use of those fluids which often 
prove to be a deadly snare, and produce results 
so fatal to the happiness and well-being of man. 

Three years have passed away and the young 
pastor has been transferred to a new and distant 
scene of labor, still within the shores of " the land 
of springs/' and surrounded with the stirring, busy 
life of a large city. It is the peaceful Sabbath aft- 
ernoon, when a message reaches him in his study 



Blighted Lives. 385 

that brings before his mind a vivid recollection of 
the painfully interesting incidents related above. 
" Mrs. L. will be greatly obliged if you will go 
and see Mr. L., who has had a fit, and is very ill. " 
Such was the message ; so similar in its import to 
the one received by him a few years ago, which 
had left an impression burned, as it were, into his 
memory by the shocking scenes of which it was 
the precursor. Like a series of dissolving views, 
all the sad incidents of that evening rise and pass 
with terrible distinctness before his mind ; for he 
can scarcely doubt, from his knowledge of the 
person concerned, that it is another case of the 
same mournful character to which his attention is 
now to be directed. 

But ah ! this is even more sad, in one of its 
aspects, than the other, for this is the wreck of a 
pious life, a blighted career of Christian useful- 
ness, the shocking example of a minister of relig- 
ion fallen, dishonored, destroyed by the vice of 
intemperance. Like the noble forest tree that 
has been stricken by lightning, divested of every 
sign of life and verdure, blackened, shattered, and 
charred, a majestic ruin of what once was beauti- 
ful to look upon, now a mournful spectacle to 
contemplate ; here is one who was a tree of right- 
eousness, planted in the courts of the Lord's 
house, verdant, fruitful, full of promise for the 
future, and lovely to the eye that looked upon it ; 
•but it has been blasted by intemperance, and it 
has been standing' for some years in its blackened 
deformity, a monitory example of human frailty, 



386 Romance Without Fiction. 

until the time has come for the great Master to 
say, " Cut it down ! " 

Some twelve or thirteen years ago Mr. L. came, 
with another fellow-laborer, to take part in the 
work of spreading Christian truth among the 
wronged and suffering children of Africa in this 
slave land, and build up the Churches which, 
through God's blessing, had been raised here 
under the fostering care of one of the missionary 
institutions of the mother country. He was young, 
but he had been brought to God in his youth, and 
gave evidence of more than ordinary devotedness 
to the Master whose service he had chosen. After 
the usual preparation and examinations, he was 
sent to share the labors and persecutions of breth- 
ren in these isles of the west, where oppression 
and intolerance had made their home. Entering 
upon the sphere of toil assigned to him, he gave 
himself up to his work with untiring zeal, and won 
for himself in a high degree the love of the peo- 
ple, and the respect and confidence of his fellow- 
laborers. But his sphere of labor lay in a district 
of the island where exhalations from wide-spread- 
ing swamps and lagoons impregnate the atmos- 
phere with the subtle poison, which infects the 
blood, and sends it rushing through the system 
with accelerated force and fever heat, drying up 
the springs of life, and often sending its victims 
with startling rapidity to the grave. Not many 
months had elapsed when the overpowering sense 
of weariness, the racking headache and throbbing 
of the temples, with heavy pain across the loins, 



Blighted Lives, 387 

indicated too surely that the fever had laid its 
blighting grasp upon him, and that the seasoning 
was at hand. Through all the torturing processes 
of bleeding, blistering, salivation, and physicking 
to which fever patien's were in those days sub- 
jected by blundering medical practitioners — often 
more surely cutting short the days of the sufferer 
than the disease itself — the young missionary 
writhed and tossed and^ groaned until the fever 
had run its course. Assisted by a vigorous and 
wiry constitution, and not depressed by the fears 
and anxieties which often give fatal potency to 
the fell disorder, he struggled through it, and 
woke up one fine morning, after the crisis had 
been followed by several hours of the balmy, re- 
freshing sleep, to which he had long been a 
stranger, free from the fever, but feeble and help- 
less as an infant. Sustained through the collapse 
by powerful stimulants, nature slowly resumed her 
operations ; the relaxed muscles and nerves re- 
covered somewhat of their usual tension, and the 
patient was restored from the margin of the 
grave. 

Hitherto he had always stood aloof from the 
use of those stimulating beverages so lavishly 
used among the dominant class in the colony. 
But the smiling disciple of ^Esculapius, who had 
tended him through all the fierce attack, as he 
took his departure, turning over his patient to 
the nurses and the cooks, laid it down, with all 
the authority which professionals of his class are 
too often unwisely permitted .to assume, that he 
25 



388 Romance Without Fiction. 

must take a glass or two of good wine every day, 
and that he must also drink a little brandy and 
water instead of the lemonade and other beverages 
of that innocent class he had previously been ac- 
customed to use. Multitudes of these medical 
practitioners have themselves been the victims of 
the delusion that ardent spirits are essential to life 
in a tropical climate, and the writer has seen not 
a few of them — young men of good skill and prom- 
ise, and desirous of doing right — swept to an early 
grave by means of the alcoholic poison, victims 
themselves of ill-judged advice, while they have, 
by similar evil counsel, backed with the influence 
of professional authority, helped to multiply the 
deluded victims of intemperance. " What the 
doctor says must be right;" and the young mis- 
sionary, willing to be directed by the teachings of 
experience in those matters in which he could not 
rely, upon his own judgment to guide him, con- 
sented to act upon the instructions given to him. 

The temperance movement was not yet direct- 
ing men's minds to the wide-spreading evils re- 
sulting from the use of alcoholic beverages, and 
the dangers that lie hidden in what are regarded 
as the proper and innocent customs of society, 
and giving salutary warnings, illustrated by thou- 
sands of impressive examples, of the insidious 
character of such counsel as that given by the 
doctor to his restored patient. It would have 
been well for him had it been so, for he might 
then have been on his guard, and mistrusted the 
pernicious advice. But with unsuspecting confi- 



Blighted Lives. 389 

dence he adopted the practice so strongly recom- 
mended, and it proved to be a first step in the 
road to ruin. In many cases the evil appetite for 
strong drink increases rapidly as it is ministered 
to, and the dangerous habit becomes in time a 
master passion. One of the early results in this 
young minister of acting on the dangerous counsel 
given to him was to slacken his zeal for useful- 
ness, the next to darken and beguile his judg- 
ment, leading him to form a marriage without due 
consideration, and with one who possessed few 
or none of those qualifications which might make 
her a help-meet for him in the great work to which 
he had solemnly devoted his life. Then, greatly 
lowered in the estimation of his fellow-laborers, 
and falling more and more under the terrible in- 
fluences which were fast enslaving him, his vows 
forgotten, and his responsibilities lost sight of, his 
work was thrown up, his pastoral charge resigned, 
and he ceased to belong to the missionary band 
who, for the advancement of their noble enter- 
prise, were contending with combinations of fierce 
intolerance and persecution, and suffering, in some 
instances, even imprisonment and death. 

Through several years the debasing habit, which 
had vitiated his character and wrecked his piety, 
was continued, and gradually acquired all the 
strength of a ruling passion, under the dominance 
of which he sank into deeper degradation, until he 
became an object of scorn to many and of pity to 
others, who knew and respected him in the days 
when his character and life were pure and spotless, 



39° Romance Without Fiction. 

and devoted with untiring zeal to the work of 
doing good to others. Friends endeavored, by 
kindly remonstrance and counsel, to save him 
from the snare of the evil one. But it is no easy 
matter for one who is sunk so low in his own esteem, 
and in the estimation of others, to recover him- 
self. In the present instance it was the case of 
one tied and bound, by the power of an evil habit 
and a vicious appetite, as with fetters of brass. 
On all the earth there is not a being more help- 
less and more degraded than the self-made slave 
of intemperance. It is sound practical wisdom, as 
it is the exercise of the truest benevolence, which, 
in the United States, has led to the establishment 
of institutions or asylums where intemperance is 
dealt with as a species of mania, and a system ot 
treatment is pursued toward multitudes, sensible 
of their own helplessness, and voluntarily submit- 
ting to it, or placed under it by kind and loving 
friends, which is most effectual in checking them 
in the downward road to ruin. But no benevo- 
lent institution of this class is to be found he*re, 
and the course of death is pursued to the end. 

And the end has now come. With a vivid re- 
membrance of the former sad case, the young 
missionary feels that there is no time to be lost ; 
and accompanying the messenger to the house she 
has come from, he soon finds himself in the pres- 
ence of the sufferer, who, as in the former instance, 
has been suddenly smitten down with that fell 
disease, delirium tremens. 

This is in some respects different from the for- 



Blighted Lives. 391 

mer case. Entering the large sitting-room, which 
is called the hall, the wretched man is seen lying 
upon a mattress placed upon the floor in the center 
of the room, all the doors and windows being wide 
open, to give him as much air as possible. A 
cool, delicious sea-breeze is sweeping through the 
room. Several friends are around the bed ; and 
the wife and another person are sitting, one on 
either side, applying cloths dipped in vinegar to 
the head of the patient, and bathing his forehead 
and temples with Eau-de-Cologne. The wretched 
victim lies on his back, speechless, and apparently 
unconscious ; but he is in strong convulsions, 
trembling violently from head to foot ; the features 
twitching ; the eyes prominent, wide open and 
staring, but fixed in such a way as to indicate that 
they perceive nothing ; and the whole countenance 
bearing such an expression of horror and anguish 
that it is frightful to look upon. It forces upon 
the mind thoughts of those who are lost and 
abandoned to despair, and it makes that young 
missionary's soul shrink and tremble within him 
as he looks upon it and thinks of the past. 

The account which he gathers from the anxious 
wife is, that Mr. L. had not been well for some 
days, though able to get about ; and he could take 
no food. He swallowed nothing but the poisonous 
stimulants which had done so much to destroy 
him. He had risen later than usual that morning, 
and was preparing to go to public worship, when 
he suddenly dropped upon the floor in strong 
convulsions. The doctor had been sent for, and 



39 2 Romance Without Fiction. 

had prescribed blisters, and such other remedies 
as he thought proper. They had brought him out 
of the bedroom into the hall, by the doctor's 
order ; but the convulsions had continued without 
abatement, and Mr. L. had never spoken a word 
since the attack came on ; nor had he given the 
slightest indication that he was conscious of any 
thing taking place around, but had continued 
in the state in which the minister then beheld 
him. 

No language can describe the feelings with which 
he stands and looks upon that fearful spectacle. 
In silence he contemplates the horror-stricken face, 
the quivering limbs, the panting frame, the glaring 
eye-balls fixed upon vacancy, and he thinks of 
what that dying man once was when, in the prime 
of youthful piety, he devoted himself to work for 
God. He thinks of what he might have been in 
the Church on earth, and when joined to the shin- 
ing host of the Church above, if he had not un- 
happily turned aside from the path of rectitude 
and peace. He thinks of what he had become as 
he lies there, a miserable moral wreck, cast down, 
polluted, destroyed by strong drink. And he 
thinks — no, he dares not pursue the train of 
thought, and dwell upon the awful future in con- 
nection with the ruin stretched beneath his eye ; 
for it does not belong to him to look into the 
future, and speculate upon the destiny of that 
immortal being. Is not that spirit, though be- 
guiled, corrupted, misled by treacherous influences, 
in the hands and at the disposal of one whose love 



Blighted Lives. 393 

and mercy are boundless. And who can say how 
far that yearning love may stretch out a gracious 
hand to pluck the priceless gem of a blood-bought 
spirit from irremediable ruin and woe ? Who but 
the Omniscient One knows what gracious thoughts 
and feelings, awakened by himself, were asso- 
ciated with the desire and intention to repair to 
the sanctuary which was so fearfully interrupted ? 
And who can say whether there is not, in that con- 
vulsed and shaking frame, though apparently un- 
conscious of things around, and incapable of com- 
munication with this lower world, a spirit moved 
by gracious impulses to look with penitence and 
prayer to the infinite mercy of Him who, when the 
weight of a world's guilt and woe was pressing on 
his own soul on the cross, was even then stretching 
out the hand of power and love to snatch the soul 
of a dying malefactor from the bitter pains of 
eternal death ? Resolving to hope against hope, 
and looking to and relying upon the unlimited 
goodness and grace of the sinner's Friend, the 
missionary endeavors to arrest the sufferer's atten- 
tion as he kneels upon the bed by his side. The 
effort is vain. No sign indicates that he hears a 
word of what is addressed to him. But the 
Saviour's ears are not heavy that he cannot hear ; 
his arm is not shortened that he cannot save ; 
and to him appeal is made, and earnest are the 
prayers which go up to him from the bedside of 
the dying man. Late in the evening, and later in 
the night, the visit is repeated ; and prayer is 
again made to the Divine Helper to bless and 



394 Romance Without Fiction. 

save the departing sinner. Still there is no appar- 
ent change in the condition of the sufferer; the 
trembling of the limbs, the staring of the eyes on 
vacant space, the expression of anguish and terror 
upon the countenance, continue. But the end is 
nigh ; another day is not to dawn and behold him 
among the living. After midnight the convulsions 
increase in violence ; and before any streak of 
light appears upon the eastern horizon, after a 
dreadful paroxysm, the quivering body settles into 
quietude, the jaw drops, and life ebbs away. 
Friendly hands close the ghastly eyes ; and the 
spirit, with all its dread accountability, is with God. 
Standing over the grave prematurely open to re- 
ceive the blighted form before it had reached the 
prime of lusty manhood, the young missionary, 
whose duty^t is to read the solemn service over 
the dead, ponders in his own heart those counsels 
of heavenly wisdom to which the scene before him. 
seems to give terrible point and energy : " Be not 
high-minded, but fear." _" Let him that thinketh 
he standeth take heed lest he fall." 



Happy Deaths. 395 




XX. 

Happy Deaths. 

When faith is strong- and conscience clear, 
And words of peace the spirit cheer, 
And visioned glories half appear, 

'Tis triumph, then, to die. — Mes. Baebatjld. 

FORMER paper contained sketches of 
" blighted lives," the melancholy results of 
intemperate habits, by which so many are 
ensnared and ruined. In the same missionary's 
experience there are memories of scenes and in- 
cidents which present a delightful contrast with 
the sad histories there described — death-bed 
scenes which impressively illustrate the beauty of 
Christian holiness and the power of Divine grace, 
and show how 

" The chamber where the good man meets his fate 

Is privileged beyond the common walks of virtuous life, 

Quite on the verge of heaven." 

As the reverse of those darkly shaded pictures 
that have been presented, two others are selected 
from a multitude of cases witnessed by him in 
the Caribbean Isles, exhibiting the gladdening 
spectacle of the Christian triumphing over death, 
and shedding a flood of beauteous light upon the 



396 Romance Without Fiction. 

record of inspired truth : " Mark the perfect man, 
and behold the upright : for the end of that man 
is peace." 

" I have come to tell you, minister, that Father 
Harris is sick. I have been to see him, and I 
think he will soon be going home. He told me 
he would be glad to see minister." Such were 
the words addressed to the missionary already 
spoken of by one of the most devoted and intelli- 
gent females among the three hundred class-leaders 
who, in the city of Kingston, looked to him as the 
pastor in charge of the several societies. Some 
six years have elapsed since, in that city, he stood 
and wept and prayed over the death-bed of the 
second victim of delirium tremens^ three of which 
have been spent among the magnificent mountains 
of St. Ann's Parish, where the perfection of rural 
beauty prevails in this region of perennial summer 
from January to December. But, in the arrange- 
ments of Divine Providence, he has been appointed 
to a second term of service in the more arduous 
and wasting duties of the city, and few days pass 
in which he is not called upon to kneel at the bed- 
side of the sick or dying, and these are not un- 
frequently scenes of glorious victory over death. 
Such is likely to be the-case with the one to which 
he is now summoned; for Father Harris is the 
oldest member of the Methodist Churches in 
Jamaica, the only surviving member of the first 
class formed in Kingston by Dr. Coke, nearly sixty 
years ago ; during all which time he has walked 
with God, like Enoch, commanding the veneration 



Happy Deaths. 397 

of some, and the respect of all who knew him, as a 
pattern of Christian simplicity, integrity, and 
zeal. 

When Dr. Coke, after preaching once or twice, 
and provoking the hostility of a godless multitude 
against himself, as a minister of the truth, an- 
nounced his intention to form into a society those 
who desired to flee from the wrath to come, Will- 
iam Harris was the second to step forward and 
present himself as a candidate for admission. A 
few simple questions elicited the information he 
wished to obtain, and Dr. Coke enrolled Mr. Har- 
ris as one of eight who constituted the earliest 
Methodist society and the germ of the goodly 
Methodist Churches which have grown up and 
flourished in the face of abundant persecution in 
"the land of springs." He is. a black man, born 
of slave parents in the United States ; who, hav- 
ing adhered to the British side during the Revolu- 
tionary War, obtained his freedom, and at the close 
of the struggle emigrated to Jamaica, preferring 
to live under the protection of the British flag. 
He had been a member of the Baptist colored 
Church in America, and had been so far brought 
under religious influence as to cherish a sincere 
desire to live a godly life. But here in Jamaica 
he found no Christian friends to confer with, no 
Christian teachers that could give him counsel. 
It is true, the colony had been divided into par- 
ishes, and there were men who derived emolu- 
ment from them as a state-paid clergy ; but they 
were all slaveholders, who had accepted the 



398 Romance Without Fiction. 

sacred office for its salary, and who looked upon 
those guilty of being born with a dark complexion 
as no part of their charge, and would just as soon 
have thought of giving pastoral attention to their 
own carriage-horses as to the slaves or free black 
and colored people around them. It was a land 
covered with darkness and sin. When, therefore, 
William Harris heard that a minister of religion 
had arrived and was to preach in High Holborn- 
street, he was one of the first to repair to the ap- 
pointed spot. With joy he listened to the messen- 
ger of heaven. His whole soul was melted and 
stirred within him by the plain, earnest appeals of 
the preacher. Here was what he wanted above 
all things on earth ; one who could tell him about 
salvation and heaven. For years he had been 
longing and praying for this, and now God had 
heard and answered his prayers. When, there- 
fore, Dr. Coke invited those to confer with him 
who were willing to be united together in Chris- 
tian fellowship, the black American emigrant was 
the second to respond and present himself for ac- 
ceptance, the first being a white lady, a Mrs. 
Smith. Like William Harris, she had been for 
years looking and longing for that light to reach 
Jamaica which, she knew, was spreading in the 
favored land she had left some years before, where 
she had listened to the Wesleys and other men of 
God he, in his wisdom and love, called forth to 
wake up a slumbering Church and world. 

. Nearly all the different shades of color were, 
represented in that little band of eight persons 



Happy Deaths. 399 

whom the missionary doctor enrolled as the first 
Methodist Church in Jamaica : Mrs. Smith, a 
white matron ; William Harris, a black emigrant ; 
Catherine Dawson, a free mulatto woman ; with 
representatives of the quadroon and Mestee classes 
— types of those multitudes of all classes and col- 
ors who were afterward to be won from the world 
and given to Christ. Made wise unto salvation, 
and rejoicing in the experience and privileges of 
the children of God, several of these advanced 
rapidly in the spiritual life, and on a subsequent 
visit of Dr. Coke to the island, Mrs. Smith and 
William Harris were appointed as class-leaders, to 
give religious counsel to the multiplying inquirers 
after the things of God — the first who held that 
office in the Methodist Churches of Jamaica. 

After some years of loving toil for Christ, carried 
on in the face of much persecution and reproach, 
Mrs, Smith, a true mother in Israel — a fine exam- 
ple of the devoted Christian lady — finished a life 
of brilliant usefulness by a death of holy triumph, 
and passed within the vail to await there, in the 
presence of Jesus, the crown and the reward to 
be given her when wondrous grace, undying joy, 
and endless triumph and glory will be brought to 
the saints at the revelation of Jesus Christ, while 
her mantle rested upon others of kindred spirit. 
But William Harris lived on, and for five and fifty 
years performed, with untiring zeal and with great 
intelligence and success, the duties of a class- 
leader. Hundreds have been assisted and en- 
couraged by his wise and judicious counsels to 



400 Romance Without Fiction. 

come to Christ ; and he has exhibited the power 
and beauty of religion in a perfectly blameless 
life, and by the meek, quiet activities of self-deny- 
ing zeal and love, which seem even now to crown 
his head, white with the snows of ninety years and 
upward, with a halo of glory. 

The missionary's steps are speedily bent toward 
one of the eastern streets of the city, where he 
knows — for he has often been there before— -the 
lowly, comfortable cottage of William Harris to 
be situated in a pleasant and quiet locality. He 
enters a house neatly furnished and scrupulously 
clean, where a tasteful arrangement of sundry 
glass and china ornaments, and specimens of na- 
tive skill and natural curiosities, exhibit traces 
of womanly care and refinement. A daughter of 
the good old patriarch, no longer in the bloom of 
youth, advances to meet him as he appears at the 
open door, and after a few words of respectful sal- 
utation, ushers him into the room where the vet- 
eran soldier of the cross is about to lay down his 
weapons and pass away to the better land, saying 
like the conquering apostle, " I have fought the 
good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept 
the faith." The room is furnished with some taste 
and a due regard to comfort, the bedstead and 
most of the principal articles being made of the 
superior mahogany which the country produces. 
There, stretched upon sheets as white as the driv- 
en snow, and surrounded by comforts which many 
loving hearts are anxious to provide for him, lies 
the patient. " I am happy to see you, minister," 



Happy Deaths, 401 

he says, lifting his hand withered by age, and now 
weakened by disease, to take that of his visitor; 
" I am going home ; my work is done, and Jesus 
is taking me to himself." It is even so. A cold 
taken a few days ago has resulted in fever, and 
there is little ground to hope that the frame now 
weakened and reduced by age can resist and 
overcome the shock. He feels a conviction that 
the sickness is unto death, and that he will never 
leave the bed on which he lies until friendly 
hands shall bear him to his last resting-place in 
the dust. 

The missionary enters into conversation with 
him, and the goodness and love of Jesus to him as 
a sinner, the preciousness of Jesus to him in this 
time of sickness, and the joys and glories of the 
home he is approaching, are the topics on which 
he delights to dwell, the dark ashy countenance, 
paled by sickness, seeming to light up with more 
than earthly joy as with feeble voice and broken 
utterances he refers to them. 

As the missionary looks upon that dying old 
man so happy and triumphant, now that death and 
eternity are close at hand, his mind goes back to 
a widely different scene, and he thinks of the rav- 
ing maniac — the miserable, hopeless victim of de- 
lirium tremens— -to behold whose death scene he 
was summoned in another part of the island, and 
he feels how true it is, " Happy is the man that 
flndeth wisdom, and the man that getteth under- 
standing .... Length of days is in her right hand ; 
and in her left hand riches and honor .... She 



402 Romance Without Fiction. 

shall give to thine head an ornament of grace : 
a crown of glory shall she deliver to thee." 
There was the white man, the wretched victim of 
a debasing habit, sinking (ah ! with what terrible 
reluctance) to the grave ; his life curtailed, his 
energies blighted, his opportunities wasted, and 
his soul, there is every reason to fear, utterly 
ruined and lost. Here is a despised, dark-skinned 
child of Africa, who has wisely chosen in early life 
the better part and kept himself from the paths of 
the destroyer ; and now, after a long life given to 
God's service, a career of useful toil which has 
conferred eternal benefit upon hundreds of im- 
mortal spirits, and an example lustrous with all 
the beauties of holy living, extending over more 
than half a century, he is coming to the end of 
life loved, honored, and revered by a multitude 
of people, sustained with the richest consolations 
of Divine grace ; not a shadow of distrust or fear 
upon his hallowed spirit, and exulting with all the 
energy that age and sickness have left to him in 
the sure conviction that he is passing away to share 
the undying joys of that better land which is the 
home of the saints and the glorious abode of an- 
gels and of God. 

The progress of the disease is not rapid, but it 
is surely undermining the citadel of life, already 
greatly weakened by the effects of time. Two or 
three times the missionary stands at that bedside 
to rejoice with the exulting saint, and join with 
him in prayer and praise. Multitudes who have 
long known his godly walk and conversation would 



Happy Deaths. 403 

fain look upon the dying servant of the Lord and 
participate "in his joy and triumph. Many of his 
Christian associates are admitted to the hallowed 
chamber, and none depart without feeling some- 
thing of what inspired the breast of him who 
prayed in the olden time, " Let me die the death 
of the righteous, and let my last end be like his ! " 
Three or four days suffice to bring the conflict to 
an end. Death conquers ; but it is only the frail, 
perishable body that succumbs to his power, and 
that only for the appointed season, until the re- 
demption morning, when it shall come forth in 
immortal life arid beauty from the grave. The 
ransomed and purified spirit death-has no power 
to touch. Breathing accents of love and triumph 
to the end, the mortal frame sinks at length in the 
collapse of death, and the soul, transcendently 
happy, wings its flight to God. On the following 
day, attended by a far-reaching train of Christian 
friends, the wasted remains are borne to the old 
burial-ground, to be deposited in the dust amid 
the graves of hundreds who have finished their 
course with joy. The pastor, whose duty it is to 
take the principal part in the last offices for the 
dead, while the loud swell of the funeral hymn 
dies on the lips of the thousands who have fol- 
lowed the departed saint to his last earthly rest- 
ing place, feels how sublimely touching and true 
are the poetic lines in which the great minstrel 
of Methodist song has molded the apocalyptic 
announcement concerning the Lord's departed 
ones : 

26 



404 Romance Without Fiction. 

" Hark ! a voice divides the sky : — 

Happy are the faithful dead ! 
In the Lord who sweetly die, 

They from all their toils are freed ; 
Them the Spirit hath declared 

Blest, unutterably blest ; 
Jesus is their great reward, 

Jesus is their endless rest." 

Side by side with the senior pastor is one who 
is soon to realize in his own happy experience all 
the blessedness to which these glowing words 
refer, and exhibit in the triumphant joy of an un- 
clouded death-scene an impressive contrast to the 
shame, sadness, and terror, not to say despair, 
which hung darkly, like thick clouds, over the 
close of that life referred to in a preceding chap- 
ter, vitiated and cut short by the drink fiend, the 
opening of which was brilliant with the promise of 
missionary usefulness, He has taken part in the 
solemn service just concluded, for he, too, bears 
the missionary character, and, as a co-pastor in 
the circuit, has sympathized, with all the vigor 
of an ardent soul, in the Christian joy of the 
blessed old man who has just passed to the tri- 
umphant Church before the throne of God. He 
has but recently arrived at the ripeness of youth- 
ful manhood, and it is but some six years since iie 
entered upon his missionary work. Born in a 
western county of England, where earnest piety 
abounds, and recommended from a metropolitan 
circuit, he has brought with him an earnest spirit 
of piety and a devoted zeal, which have abun- 



Happy Deaths, 405 

dantly justified the selection made of him for mis- 
sionary toil. In the several scenes of labor in 
which he has exercised his ministry, his cheerful, 
genial piety, and loving, tender courtesy, shown to 
all classes and all ages alike, have gained for him 
the affections of thousands of loving hearts, so 
that with young and old he is a general favorite ; 
while his laborious zeal, which shrinks from no 
amount of labor, and the power of God which at- 
tends his lively and original expositions of Divine 
truth, render him to all his brethren a desirable 
colleague. Never did a richer unction attend his 
ministry, never did he live more fully in the re- 
spect and love of his fellow-laborers, than at the 
time when he stands with them over the open 
grave of good old William Harris. But not one 
of that company of ministers anticipates for a mo- 
ment that, close to the same spot,* there will ere 
long be another grave opened, and the same sol- 
emn service read over one of their own number, 
and he the youngest of them all. 

Yet such is the fact. The one blemish in that 
devoted servant of the Lord Jesus, the only thing 
that fastidiousness itself could point out as a sub- 
ject of blame, is, that he does not exercise all the 
prudential care for the preservation of health that 
may justly be regarded as a religious duty, a duty 
owing to himself, his young wife and child, and 
the Church of God, to whose service he has con- 
secrated all the energies he may possess, and 
which, therefore, ought to be preserved and 
guarded with such vigilance as higher and more 



406 Romance Without Fiction. 

imperative duties will permit. Doubtless there 
are times when health, family considerations, and 
even life itself, are all to be disregarded and sacri- 
ficed in the great Master's service, and when fidel- 
ity to Christ can only be maintained by such sacri- 
fice ; but neither life nor health ought to be reck- 
lessly and unnecessarily lavished and wasted, and 
a career of usefulness brought prematurely to an 
end, when no claims of duty demand that it should 
be so. 

Here is the infirmity which friendly, loving eyes 
see cause to blame. There is not, as in some un- 
happy instances before referred to, a wicked, will- 
ful waste of health and life through the indulgence 
of a vicious appetite, for total abstinence from the 
use of alcohol claims him as one of its staunch 
adherents. No; it is that he is too prodigal in 
expending his strength for God, and not so care- 
ful to guard against unwholesome influences as he 
might be without detracting in the very smallest 
degree from the efficiency of his labors. But no 
doubt such an infirmity of judgment — a fault lean- 
ing to virtue's side — -may well find excuse in the 
all-loving One, who is so merciful to the weak- 
nesses of his creatures. To this it is justly attrib- 
uted that, after a short career of usefulness, he 
falls under the influence of one of those insidious 
diseases of the tropics so fatal to human life. 
Dysentery in an aggravated form lays him pros- 
trate, and most reluctantly for a season he is con- 
strained to relinquish the work in which his whole 
soul is absorbed. By medical treatment the dire 



Happy Deaths. 407 

disease seems to be checked, but before nature 
has been allowed sufficiently to rally her energies 
after such severe prostration, setting aside the 
kindly remonstrances of anxious friends, and the 
earnest pleadings of a loving partner, he is found 
giving himself up as freely as before to efforts and 
journeys which are beyond his partially recruited 
strength. The consequence is a relapse. With 
intensified energy the fell malady returns to find 
its victim, enfeebled by the former attack, less 
fitted than before to resist its enervating power. 
The best medical skill available is exerted. All 
that warm affection can dictate is done to arrest 
the complaint and save the valued patient. But 
it may not be. One paroxysm of intense anguish 
succeeds another with augmented violence, and it 
becomes too evident that the days of the loved 
one are numbered. The honored servant of 
Christ, upon whose lips thousands have hung with 
delight and profit, is passing away, and the sun of 
his bright young life, before it has reached its 
meridian, is about to be eclipsed in the darkness 
of the grave. 

All are depressed and sorrowful with the thought 
but himself. It is to all the loving friends that 
hover around that sick bed a sad and mournful 
reflection that a life and ministry so fraught with 
blessing and usefulness should be suddenly cut 
short ; but to himself it is matter of fervent joy. 
How often have they heard him heralding his ap- 
proach with the cheerful strains, 

" And we'll all give him glory when we arrive at home !" 



408 Romance Without Fiction. 

But now, while he sings the joyous words with all 
the energy his wasted powers are capable of, his 
countenance becomes radiant with the hope that 
this glorious home is close at hand, and he is 
about to enter in. Not even the thought of his 
young wife and child being left behind has any 
effect in making him cling to earth. " God will 
take care of them," he says ; and in a somewhat 
different sense from that which he has been ac- 
customed to use it, the couplet is often upon his 
lips, as if he were anxious to depart and be with 
Christ — 

" Come, Lord, trie drooping sinner cheer, 
Nor let thy chariot wheels delay." 

Excruciating pains often rack the debilitated 
frame, and as he draws near to the fatal crisis 
powerful convulsions betoken the approach of the 
all-subduing foe, recalling to the memory of one 
who looks upon the servant of God, smitten down 
in his young manhood, a vivid, painful recollection 
of that other one, who had also borne the mission- 
ary character, whom he saw trembling and con- 
vulsed in the grasp of the king of terrors. But O 
how different the one case from the other ! In 
this there is nothing to fear concerning the future. 
In that there was hardly room to hope. Here is 
one whom the Divine Master is taking, in glorious 
triumph, to the heavenly Paradise within the vail. 
There was one who was departing — only the All- 
merciful could say where, for % even charity itself 
could not dare to say — it could only faintly hope 
— " He is a sinner saved by grace, passing home 



Happy Deaths. 409 

to God." This is one who has run the course of 
the just, shining more and more brilliantly like the 
orb of day, and setting in glory without a cloud. 
That was the case of one sinking in dark clouds 
from human ken, but whether to rise in brightness 
in a more glorious world, or to suffer an everlast- 
ing eclipse, must be left to the revelations of eter- 
nity. It is the contrast of the faithful and the 
fallen, between one who endured with unswerving 
fidelity to the end, and one who turned aside and 
fell, seduced by treacherous vice to paths of dan- 
ger and ruin. 

The scene so painful, yet triumphant, closes. 
The last convulsive throe shakes the weakened 
and attenuated frame, and shows the power of the 
terrible disease which is permitted by Him who 
hath the keys of death and of Hades to cut short 
that young and valued life, and then the eye rests 
upon a young and newly-made widow, weeping in 
bitter agony over the inanimate remains which the 
hallowed, victorious spirit has just cast off, to enter 
an everlasting rest. Sad is the overwhelming con- 
viction that now comes home to that desolate 
heart, that the being, more dear to her than all 
the world beside — the one she has loved so well — 
loved as only woman can love — the possessor of 
all earthly excellences, is to her no more for this 
life, and that alone in the solitude of early widow- 
hood, bereft of the tender care and loving sympa- 
thy which promised to fill her path through life 
with so much of peace and joy, she must, with her 
fatherless boy, tread that path alone. Bitter is 



410 Romance Without Fiction. 

the thought that, unaided by the counsels she has 
found so precious, and from which she hoped so 
much, she must bear alone all the momentous re- 
sponsibility of training that young heir of immor- 
tality to follow his father to the skies. But she 
knows in whom she has believed, and her trust is 
that God will not withhold his aid and blessing in 
this noble undertaking, so worthy of a mother's 
yearning love, so worthy of a life's devotion ! 

It is a touching and it is an instructive scene 
that the next day's sun sheds his rays upon as he 
descends in unclouded tropical glory toward the 
western horizon, for all that is earthly of the young 
missionary, so early taken to his rest, is being 
borne to the grave. There are none of the gor- 
geous trappings of woe. A plain hearse bears the 
coffin, and a few weepers of crape around the hats 
of those nearest to the coffin are the only funeral 
adornments considered requisite for the occasion. 
But many of the great ones of earth go to the 
proud mausoleums prepared for them without 
such honors as distinguished the closing scene in 
the history of this young servant of Christ. Thou- 
sands upon thousands have assembled, uninvited, 
to make part of that funeral procession ; men, 
women, and children are gathered, as if some 
mighty conqueror whom all delighted to honor 
were about to be consigned to the dust, and all 
who can command a black coat or gown, or a 
mourning handkerchief or ribbon, have brought 
them forth on this occasion. In thousands of 
eyes glisten tears of grief, or, chasing each other 



Happy Deaths. 411 

down the sable cheek, they bear eloquent witness 
to the affection with which the departed was hon- 
ored as the funeral cortege moves slowly through 
the streets. It is no easy matter to convey the 
body into the chapel because of the dense throng 
which crowds the commodious building. Equally 
difficult it is for the bearers to approach the open 
grave with their precious burden. At length they 
do so ; the coffin is lowered to its resting-place — 
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust — in 
sure and certain hope of the resurrection of the 
dead, and the solemn service closes with a hymn, 
loud sobs making themselves audible amid the 
lofty swell of a multitude of voices singing in me- 
lodious strains — 

" Yes, the Christian's course is run, 

Ended is the glorious strife ; 
Fought the fight, the work is done, 

Death is swallow' d up of life ! 
Borne by angels on their wings, 

Far from earth the spirit flies, 
Finds his God, and sits, and sings, 

Triumphing in Paradise." 

A few days have elapsed, and a dense throng of 
people is assembled in and around the principal 
place of worship in the city. Nearly all are in 
black, or else have black adornings to the clean 
white dresses they wear on the occasion, for it is 
the time when the funeral sermon of the departed 
missionary is to be delivered. Several of his 
brethren and colleagues are there, who loved him 
well; but the principal part of the service has been 



412 Romance Without Fiction. 

confided to one who was the boyish companion of 
the ascended one, and the associate of his youth ; 
who sought with him the blessings and joys of re- 
ligion, and entered with him upon the delightful 
work of laboring for precious souls — the chosen 
Christian friend. It is fitting and proper that the 
honor — whatever of that there may be in it — of 
improving the early death of the loved one should 
belong to this companion of his early days. Right 
well and judiciously does he improve the mourn- 
ful occasion. No fulsome eulogy is indulged, no 
flattering compliments are uttered, but to the 
Giver of every good and perfect gift all the honor 
and praise is ascribed, while he shows, in a dis- 
course eloquent in its simplicity and appropriate- 
ness, that the friend and brother just passed out of 
sight and gone home to God was "a good man, 
and full of the -Holy Ghost and of faith, and much 
people was added to the Lord." 

Living, weeping witnesses all around, who have 
been awakened and brought to God through his 
instrumentality, can set to their seal that of him 
these words are true. The sermon ended, the 
minister, whose co-pastor the departed missionary 
has been, and whom he has loved and lamented 
with all the warm affection of a brother, rises to 
say a few words to the congregation. He speaks 
of the young widow and the fatherless boy, who 
has only seen a few months of life, and the sad 
bereavement they have sustained, which is aggra- 
vated by the painful fact that they are left with 
very, very slender claims upon any means of 



Happy Deaths. 413 

earthly support. He will not dishonor the mem- 
ory of his departed friend by presenting his widow 
and little one to their notice as begging for help 
at their hands. They know nothing of his inten- 
tion to make any reference to them on this occa- 
sion. They could not know it, and none could 
know it, for it is only now, while listening to the 
soul-moving remarks of the preacher who has just 
sat down, that the propriety of mentioning the 
subject there and then has suggested itself to his 
mind. He will only state the fact that the widow 
and her child are left more than ordinarily desti- 
tute, without friends and without a home. He 
will ask them for nothing, but knowing how well 
they loved the husband and the father, he will 
furnish the opportunity for the exercise of their 
own generous impulses by attending himself at 
one, and his two colleagues at the other two chap- 
els in the city, for an hour or two about midday on 
the morrow. 

At the appointed hour in the morning hundreds 
are there with tear-stained cheeks, bringing each 
an offering, small in itself in many instances, but, 
when regarded in the same light as the widow's 
two mites, liberal indeed. Hundreds of children 
are there too, for the young minister was specially 
beloved of children, all with offerings of greater or 
less value ; every one of them precious, however, 
as the spontaneous tribute of true affection, and no 
doubt graciously appreciated by Him who looks 
at the hearts of givers. Nor do his missionary 
brethren hang back from testifying their love to 



4H Romance Without Fiction. 

their valued brother by showing kindness to those 
he has left behind. It is a source of intense satis- 
faction to him, who suggested to the kindly con- 
sideration of Christian friends that the widow and 
her fatherless son had claims upon their sympathy, 
while it is honorable to the liberality of the donors, 
that in a short time he is able to make a favorable 
investment of several hundred pounds, all of it 
the cheerful, spontaneous gift of love. This is 
done in such a way as to afford efficient aid to the 
bereaved mother in bringing up her boy in the 
land of his father in a manner befitting the 
memory of his sainted sire, and prepare him to 
play a worthy part upon the stage of life ; the 
mother blessed in her son, the son equally blessed 
in his mother. 

It is a further cause of satisfaction and joy, when 
after the lapse of twenty years he meets that moth- 
er and son again in the west of England, to find that 
God's hand has been upon them both ; the prayers 
of the long ascended father and the living mother 
for their boy have been answered in his early con- 
version, and in the devotion of his heart and life 
to God ; and that, blooming into manhood, he is 
about to offer his gifts and energies to be employed 
in that ministry in which it was his father's delight 
and honor to live and die. May the blessing of 
his father's God make the course of the young 
minister to be one eminently enriched with all 
the fragrant graces and beauties of Christian holi- 
ness, and abounding with the fruits of the higher 
wisdom that winneth souls for God ! - 



Crossing the Atlantic. 415 



XXI. 

Crossing the Atlantic. 

The sea is mighty, but a mightier sways 

His restless billows. Thou, whose hands have scoop'd 

His boundless gulfs and built his shore, Thy breath, 

That moved in the beginning o'er his face, 

Moves o'er it evermore. The obedient waves 

To its strong motion roll, and rise and fall. — Bkyant. 

fT is a lively, restless scene, calculated to per- 
plex the quiet mind, that presents itself to a 
party of travelers as they step from their 
hackney carriages in the dock-yard at Southampton. 
A small steamer, which is employed as a " tender," 
to convey passengers and the mails to the larger 
vessels, is alongside the quay, and appears already 
crowded with persons who are going off to the 
" La Plata," now lying, ready for her departure, in 
what are called the Southampton waters. Trunks, 
carpet-bags, etc., intermingled with package-cases 
of all shapes and sizes, are piled in heaps upon the 
narrow deck of the little vessel ; while, from stem 
to stern, almost every available portion of space 
appears occupied by the owners of these miscel- 
laneous articles, all carefully defended by cloaks, 
shawls, muffs, and furs, against the bitter cold of a 
January morning, which is to witness their depart- 
ure for a brighter and a warmer clime. Still, 



416 Romance Without Fiction. 

however, porters are rapidly traversing the narrow 
plank which affords access to the tender, and a 
continuous stream of passengers pours in, until it 
becomes quite impossible for any. of the earlier 
arrivals to move from the place where they have 
taken their stand, or have been fortunate enough 
to secure a seat. And how motley is the crowd 
squeezed together within those narrow limits ! 
French and Spanish, English and German, Portu- 
guese and Mexican, the mulatto and the negro, 
exhibit here their distinguishing peculiarities as, 
like a flock of migratory birds at the close of sum- 
mer, they are all on the wing for the far west. The 
bell rings ; the plank connecting the tender with 
the shore is withdrawn ; the sharp shrill voice of 
the call-boy conveys to the invisible engineer the 
command to " turn ahead;" and the noble 
steamers that grace the dock, destined for distant 
voyages both to east and west, are speedily left 
behind. 

In a few minutes the docks are cleared, and the 
voyagers, with their friends, are moving swiftly 
down the placid Southampton waters toward the 
point at which " La Plata," with the well known 
sailing signal flying at her mast-head, is proudly 
seated on the bosom of the deep, waiting to re- 
ceive her freight. Even at the distance of two 
miles she appears large and majestic ; but when a 
quarter of an hour has brought the tender near, 
her graceful and magnificent proportions become 
more distinctly visible. Various emotions swell 
the bosoms of those who gaze upon her ; for while 



Crossing the Atlantic. 417 

some are thoughtless, others are not unmindful of 
the perils of the great deep. In the midst of their 
admiration, the thought suggests itself to some 
minds, " Possibly that noble vessel is destined to 
become my coffin, and to bear down to the un- 
searchable caverns of the ocean a multitude of im- 
mortal beings who with unsuspecting confidence 
are about to intrust themselves to the treacherous 
flood." They do not forget the tragical fate of the 
" President," which perished, how, or when, or 
where, no man living can explain ; or the still 
more recent catastrophe of the "Amazon." No 
one ventures to express the thoughts that are 
busy within him ; yet the inquiry arises, " Will she 
safely traverse the broad Atlantic with the souls 
aboard her ? or, like her hapless predecessor, will 
she be lighted up, a blazing beacon, to startle and 
appal the nation with the details of frightful suf- 
fering, hair-breadth escapes, and self-sacrificing 
heroism ? " 

The tender is now alongside, appearing but a 
cockle-shell in comparison with her lofty princi- 
pal. A scramble to get on board ensues, the 
stronger elbowing and thrusting aside the weaker, 
as if life itself depended upon being among the 
first to tread " La Plata's " decks. But the more^ 
timid, who have patiently waited their turn, with 
the nurses and children, are all in due time 
handed over the tender's paddle-box by polite 
and attentive officers. The piles of baggage are 
also carefully transferred to the larger vessel, the 
whole speedily disappearing as porters from the 



4i 8 Romance Without Fiction. 

shore bear it away and deposit it in the cabins 
respectively apportioned to the several owners. 
Some mistakes have occurred in the hurry of em- 
barkation. Cabin No. 9, which, along with three 
others, Nos. 7, n, and 13, has been engaged by a 
family party of seven persons, is found occupied 
by strange boxes and carpet-bags, the owner of 
which is beginning to uncord them, with a view of 
putting things in order, and making all as snug 
and comfortable as possible while the vessel lies 
quietly at anchor. Explanation follows, when it 
is found that the stranger has got into " the wrong 
box," by mistaking No. 9 aft for No. 9 forward, 
where the berth to which he has a legitimate claim 
awaits his occupation. A word or two of good- 
humored apology sets the matter right, and on the 
shoulders of a sturdy porter the intruding baggage 
is borne away to the less sumptuous yet comfort- 
able range of cabins before the funnels. 

The large and handsome saloon, extending in 
length nearly seventy feet, and beautifully fitted 
with panels and twisted columns of bird's-eye 
maple and cushions of crimson velvet, presents a 
lively scene. Family parties, exchanging a few 
last words, are grouped in different directions ; 
while the purser and the company's clerks, at 
separate tables, are busily engaged in rectifying 
mistakes, adjusting conflicting claims, or startling 
some of the passengers by accounts for " extra 
baggage." Many on board are, manifestly, for- 
eigners. At one end of the spacious apartment a 
loquacious little Frenchman, whose fierce, squir- 



Crossing the Atlantic. 419 

rel-like eyes are almost the only part of his feat- 
ures not concealed by a mass of carefully culti- 
vated hair, is carrying on an angry dispute with 
one of the company's clerks and two or three of 
the passengers, who appear to be interested on the 
other side of the question. It is impossible for 
those who are in the vicinity not to overhear the 
conversation, in which several other parties on 
both sides, as well as the principal disputants, 
take a vociferous part, and it soon becomes ap- 
parent that the diminutive Frenchman, through 
some mistake of the company's Parisian agent, 
has obtained the occupancy of a cabin previously 
engaged by an English resident at Bogota, who 
quietly insists on having the accommodation for 
which he has stipulated and paid. The French- 
man has, however, the advantage of possession. 
With the key of the apartment in his pocket, he 
sets argument, entreaty, and authority alike at de- 
fiance, and, with a volubility perfectly overwhelm- 
ing, persists in asserting his right. 

The dispute remains unsettled, when it is an- 
nounced that the tender, which had returned to 
Southampton, has again put off from the shore 
with the mails — the well-known sign that the ship 
will speedily put to sea. A few minutes suffice to 
bring the little steamer alongside, when, under the 
superintendence of the agent — an old, battered, 
and nearly worn-out lieutenant of the navy — the 
mails are brought on board. Nearly seventy stout 
canvas bags, and other packages, each requiring 
two or three men to lift it, contain the mass of 
27 



420 Romance Without Fiction. 

correspondence and news for transportation to 
the west. What a world of emotion is bound up 
in the contents of those packages ! How much of 
hope and despondency, of joy and sorrow, may be 
latent there ! When those mail-bags shall have 
yielded their sealed treasures what impulses will 
be given to the yearnings of a heartless cupidity 
on the one hand, and to the noble sentiments and 
aspirations of a self-denying benevolence on the 
other ! As the bags are successively handed over 
the ship's side by " La Plata's " brawny tars their 
destination may be read, printed on the canvas in 
large characters. The word " Havana " shows 
some to be designed for Cuba, where the worst 
horrors of slavery are still rampant, and several 
hundred thousands of human beings crouch and 
writhe under the lash. On others, " Vera Cruz " 
reveals the fact that the miners of Mexico have 
their share in the contents of the mail ; while, as 
"Jamaica," "St. Kitt's," " Antigua," "Barbadoes," 
etc., meet the eye, the beholder is reminded that 
there is in that vast heap of letters and papers 
something to cheer the hearts of Christian mis- 
sionaries who, in those lovely and fertile isles of 
the Caribbean, pursue with diligence their work of 
faith and labor of love among the emancipated 
children of Africa. 

Among others who have come off with the mails 
is Captain Vincent, the superintendent of the com- 
pany's affairs at Southampton, and formerly in 
command of one of their ships, whose stentorian 
voice is now heard from the gangway speaking in 



Crossing the Atlantic. 421 

accents of authority. It transpires that the mat- 
ter of the disputed cabin has been referred to the 
superintendent by the English claimant, who avows 
his determination to take his family ashore in the 
tender, and throw up his passage altogether if the 
company's engagement with him be not carried 
into effect. The disputatious Frenchman is by no 
means inclined to yield to the more equitable de- 
mand, even when that demand is sustained by the 
decision of Captain Vincent. With gleaming eye 
and untiring vociferation, he still protests that he 
will keep possession. " Where is the carpenter ? " 
inquires Captain Vincent, and that functionary 
soon makes his appearance. " Go and break open 
the cabin-door, and let this gentleman in," is the 
laconic order. "Ay, ay, sir." Hardly sooner said 
than done, and the carpenter is back in a few mo- 
ments. " The cabin is open, sir." The discom- 
fited Gallican retires, chagrined, from the now 
hopeless contest, and the successful competitor 
goes, well pleased, to take possession. Again the 
voice of the superintendent is heard. " Captain 
Weller, I have ordered the cabin No. — to be 

broken open and given to Mr. . You will, 

no doubt, make the gentleman who had it as com- 
fortable as possible somewhere else." " Ay, ay, 
sir," responds the captain, with manly voice, from 
the top of the paddle-box. " The gentleman shall 
be made comfortable. I will give him my own 
cabin if he likes to take it." 

What a magic influence is there in* kindness ! 
The tone and manner in which these words are 



422 Romance Without Fiction. 

spoken, together with the generous spirit they 
breathe, have in a moment awakened in many 
breasts a feeling of respectful regard for the speak- 
er, which is by no means lessened when, drawn to 
the quarter whence the voice proceeds, the eyes 
of most of the passengers rest for the first time 
upon the man under whose guidance and com- 
mand they are about to proceed across the watery 
waste, and upon whose vigilance, skill, and energy, 
under God, not only their comfort, but the safety 
of their lives, will depend. With anxious glance 
his form and countenance are closely scanned, 
and he bears the scrutiny well. He looks every 
inch a sailor. The modest uniform of the compa- 
ny enwraps a stout, muscular, symmetrical, and 
well-knit frame, capable of enduring a large 
amount of fatigue, and not likely soon to break 
down. Not the slightest trace of effeminacy is 
there. The gold-laced cap is seen to surmount a 
countenance which inspires at once confidence 
and respect. There is a good-humored frankness 
beaming from the eye, which invites the beholder 
to look again, and leaves on his mind a pleasing 
image. But there is also an expression of deter- 
mination, and even of daring, which imparts the 
comfortable assurance that in any emergency where 
manly courage and cool self-possession are re- 
quired reliance may be placed on our captain. 

All preparations are now completed. The pas- 
sengers have finally shaken hands with shore-going 
friends and seen them pass through the gangway 
into the tender, while both dropped the parting 



Crossing the Atlantic, 423 

tear. The two vessels have separated, and the 
foam from the massive paddle-wheels shows that 
the voyage has commenced in earnest. The little 
tender, running parallel for a few moments with 
the departing ship, sends forth three hearty fare- 
well cheers, which are as heartily returned by the 
" La Plata's " men, clustering like bees in the 
shrouds. Each pursues its course, the tender re- 
turning to the docks at Southampton, while the 
massive mail-boat, directing her stem toward the 
British Channel, plows her way through the deep, 
leaving in her wake a broad line of foam to mark 
the increasing rapidity with which she glides away 
from the shores of Old England. 

Dinner is quickly served after the vessel is 
fairly under way, and both ranges of tables, which 
run the entire length of the spacious saloon, are 
seen completely filled with the passengers — for 
the most part strangers to each other. To those 
who know something of the casualties of a sea- 
voyage it appears not very probable that they will 
all assemble on the morrow in the same place 
again. And so it proves. The evening is com- 
paratively serene ; the Needles and the Portland 
lights are successively passed, together with a 
large steamer homeward bound, supposed to be 
the " Magdalena," and our noble ship makes rapid 
progress down the Channel until at length the 
decks are cleared, and all have retired to their 
berths, indulging the hope that an easy and pleas- 
ant run lies before them. But during the night 
the wind increases, and the sea becomes agitated, 



424 Romance Without Fiction. 

imparting considerable motion to the vast fabric 
that is cutting her way through the rolling waves. 
The usual consequences of such a state of things 
ensue. Long before daylight voices are heard 
from all parts of the ship allotted to -passengers 
earnestly calling for the services of the steward 
and stewardess, and many a note of distress and 
suffering issues from the unknown depths of the 
vessel. 

Morning dawns, and the sea no longer presents 
the placid and grateful aspect of the evening be- 
fore It wears an angry appearance. The ship 
rolls and pitches considerably, rendering it diffi- 
cult for even the practiced stewards and waiters 
to keep their feet. When breakfast is spread, the 
sc^ne is very different from that of the dinner 
hour on the previous day. Of the numerous pas- 
sengers, scarcely one in ten appears in answer to 
the summons, and some of those who do emerge 
from their cabins look exceedingly woebegone. 
So that now the saloon, in its comparative stillness 
and desertion, wears an air of gloom and desola- 
tion, increasing the depression already prevalent. 
It is the same at dinner. A plentiful repast is 
spread, but the loud ringing of the steward's bell 
calls forth, in addition to the captain and officers 
who usually preside at the tables, only some ten 
or a dozen ghostly-looking persons, who, in sheer 
desperation, resolve at least to make an attempt 
to shake off the fiend of seasickness. Alas ! the 
effort is vain. One or two old sea-goers, despite 
the rocking and plunging of the ship, keep their 



Crossing the Atlantic. 425 

places, and do justice to the viands spread before 
them ; but in other instances the very sight and 
odor of the food prove utterly unendurable, and 
the issue is a hasty and inglorious retreat. 

Another day dawns, but brings no improvement 
in the weather. The wind has veered round to 
the west and blows very strong. Yet the passen- 
gers begin to* leave their berths. A few pale and 
disheveled ladies may be seen reclining upon the 
cushions and settees of the saloon, and toward 
evening some of the other sex find courage to as- 
cend the poop, and gaze upon that wild and angry 
abyss of waters, raging as if they would swallow 
up the ship and all that it contains. To some 
minds it occurs (and it is far from a gratifying re- 
flection) that this is the anniversary of the fear- 
ful loss of the " Amazon." It was two years ago 
this evening, near the spot where the " La Plata " 
is now laboring on, and during the prevalence of 
a similar gale, that the numerous denizens of that 
ill-fated ship were startled from their sleep in the 
dead of night to find themselves shut up in a blaz- 
ing vessel and compelled to choose — as many as 
were not already suffocated in their berths— be- 
tween the burning fiery furnace beneath their feet 
and the poor chance of safety they had in com- 
mitting themselves to the mercy of the billows. 
Should a similar calamity be permitted to occur^ 
how few of those on board could be preserved ! 
How small the probability that even one boat 
could live through a voyage of hundreds of miles 
in that boiling and roaring sea ! The lapse of hour 



426 Romance Without Fiction. 

after hour brings no mitigation of the gale. On 
the contrary, its fury increases from day to day, un- 
til at length it blows a perfect hurricane, and the 
most experienced seaman on board acknowledges 
that he has never in these latitudes known a gale 
to surpass it in strength and duration. Viewed 
from the quarter-deck the scene is one of terrible 
sublimity, bringing forcibly to mind the words of 
the psalmist, " They that go down to the sea in 
ships . . . see His wonders in the deep." The 
huge billows lift up their hoary heads on high, 
while the force of the wind is so great as to cut off 
their curling summits, driving and scattering them 
abroad in clouds of spray. Far as the eye can 
reach, the ocean is white with foam. Yet, associ- 
ated though it is with the idea of peril to the ship 
and the two hundred and seventy souls with which 
she is freighted, the scene is one of impressive 
grandeur and beauty, suggestive of lofty and sal- 
utary thoughts concerning the perfections and 
glories of the almighty One, who holds these vast 
and storming waters in the hollow of his hand. 
Here it is that man feels how little and how helpless 
he is. Now lifted up to the heavens, then plunging 
into the deep trough of the sea, how can he curb 
or control the fury of the boisterous elements ? 
Nothing but a single plank or iron plate which the 
next shock of the waves may hopelessly displace, 
prevents his sinking into the unfathomable gulf 
that yawns beneath. And here it is that he feels 
how vast and illimitable must be the power of that 
Divine Being who made and who controls at his 



Crossing the Atlantic. 427 

pleasure those turbulent and roaring billows ; who 
sits in calmest majesty above the water floods, and 
reigns a king forever. 

Onward through the gale " La Plata " pursues 
her course. Her commander amply justifies the 
confidence which his frank and manly bearing at 
first inspired. He has never before seen the ship he 
now commands so thoroughly tested, but her admi- 
rable qualities become fully developed by the trial 
she is passing through. He urges her onward, in 
the teeth of the tempest, at the rate of nearly seven 
knots an hour. He knows that the gale may, in 
these latitudes, continue for two or three weeks, 
and wisely concludes that the best and shortest 
method will be to drive the vessel through it, with 
all the speed of which she is capable. And right 
nobly does she second her captain's wishes. Often 
she is stunned for a moment or two by the thun- 
dering blow of some massive wave upon her star- 
board quarter, and every timber creaks as if she 
would go to pieces. Still she rises gallantly, keep- 
ing her bowsprit directed to the sailing point. 
Under the impulse of her powerful engines, she 
throws aside the threatening waters and dashes 
on her way. Now she pitches forward as the 
monster billow sinks under her bows, as if she 
would plunge head foremost into the flood and 
disappear altogether, while a torrent of foam and 
spray is sent to the very extremity of her far- 
stretching decks. Then again she rolls into the 
trough, until some of the terrified passengers 
shriek in deep alarm lest she should never recover 



428 Romance Without Fiction. 

her equilibrium, but, turning over, settle down for 
ever into the fathomless deep. But onwa/d still 
she moves, and during all this contention with 
tempestuous winds and raging seas, extending 
over a period of five days and nights, not a timber 
in the well-compacted and beautiful vessel is 
started ; no increase of bilge-water indicates that 
her seams have been strained. Easily and grace- 
fully rising and falling with the waves, she prompt- 
ly answers to every motion of the helm, and rushes 
on her course as if instinct with life. How fit an 
emblem of the man of God ! How like the great 
apostle of the Gentiles ! No matter what hostile 
wind may blow, or what opposition may for a sea- 
son impede his course. The tempest may rage, 
the billows may roll, and he may be tossed about, 
apparently abandoned to the mercy of the ele- 
ments. As the noble vessel is urged onward by 
the untiring play of the vast power within her 
own bosom, so the apostle, under one guiding im- 
pulse — the constraining love of Christ — presses for- 
ward in the course of duty and suffering, unwea- 
ried and undismayed, always making for the same 
point, and saying, " This one thing I do, forgetting 
those things which are behind, and reaching forth 
unto those things which are before, I press toward 
the mark for the prize of the high calling of God 
in Christ Jesus." 

It is during the oft-recurring meal-time that 
the most amusing incidents occur. The destruc- 
tion of glass and earthenware is very extensive, 
and on her return to Southampton the " La Plata " 



Crossing the Atlantic. 429 

will be found to have " expended " largely in these 
departments during her voyage. The table in the 
ladies' saloon has just been supplied with basins 
of soup, plates of biscuit, water-decanters, and 
glasses for the refreshment of some who are still 
too unsettled to appear above stairs, when a sud- 
den lurch of the ship sweeps the table clear, and 
the carpet is covered with the wreck. A loud 
crash in the steward's pantry proclaims the down- 
fall of one of the waiters in the midst of a mass 
of crockery, ready to be deposited on the table ; 
and a similar noise in the lobby proceeds from 
another who has been overturned while both arms 
were laden with plates and glasses. All parts of 
the ship in turn send forth sounds of breakage and 
ruin. . In the large saloon sad confusion prevails. 
Now a lamp-glass not securely fastened darts 
from its position, and is dashed to shivers against 
the wall, within an inch of a passenger's head. 
The soup tureen takes a sudden fling, and three 
fourths of its contents are poured in the bosom of 
some unlucky one who happens to be sitting in 
the way of its progress. Ducks swim off nearly 
the whole length of the table, after a fashion alto- 
gether new, and far less graceful than that in. 
which they were once accustomed to glide along 
their favorite element. And so with other viands. 
It is a lively but not a pleasant scene ; for few are 
without apprehension that there is great peril to 
the ship in these warring winds and fiercely-raging 
seas. The gale has continued four days and 
nights, and there is no sign of abatement ; on the 



430 Romance Without Fiction. 

contrary, the tremendous blows under which the 
vessel reels, and the increasing violence with 
which she rolls and pitches upon the swiftly-heav- 
ing billows, would indicate that both wind and sea 
rise higher and wax stronger still. Fear amount- 
ing almost to agony is torturing some breasts. 
With others arise touching reminiscences of the 
families they have recently left behind, or have been 
hoping soon to meet again. Misgivings concern- 
ing the past, and painful apprehensions of the fu- 
ture, hold alternate sway ; and from the crowded 
depths of the ship, especially during the dark 
watches of the night, many earnest prayers go 
up, in some instances from hearts little accus- 
tomed to such an exercise, appealing to the mercy 
and power of Him who measures the waters in the 
hollow of his hand. 

At daylight on the fifth day the tempest has 
reached its height, and it is fearful. Several 
heavy seas have broken over the bows, carrying 
away a portion of the framework beneath the bow- 
sprit ; when one huge wave, with a noise like 
thunder, striking the vessel with a violence which 
for the moment stops her course and causes every 
plank and bulk-head to creak and quiver, is found 
to have torn away one of the life-boats, which is 
seen, bottom upward, driving rapidly to leeward, 
as the ship, arousing herself, as it were, from the 
shock, urges on her course. This is a loss to be 
lamented, not only as the boat would be invaluable 
in case of such an emergency as may possibly arise, 
with a ship having two hundred and seventy souls 



Crossing the Atlantic. 43 r 

on board, but because it was one of the boats 
saved from the unfortunate " Amazon," one 
which did its part in bearing to land the few 
that escaped the catastrophe of January 4, 1852. 

The mercury rises in the barometer throughout 
the day, and toward evening and throughout the 
night there is a perceptible improvement, wel- 
come beyond expression to the tempest-tossed and 
wearied inmates of the ship. The holy Sabbath 
dawns upon the ocean still rolling with majestic 
power, but exhibiting a milder and more pacific 
aspect. The captain thinks the sea too rough, and 
the motion of the vessel too great, to permit the 
holding of Divine service ; especially as the clothes 
of the men forward, and the boxes of some of the 
passengers, have been thoroughly saturated during 
the gale. Yet, surely, after so impressive a mani- 
festation of Divine power, it would be a grateful 
and becoming thing to render public thanks and 
worship to Him who has heard prayer, and saved 
the ship, with her crew and passengers, from the 
perils of the deep. In the afternoon the moderated 
state of the weather renders it safe even for the 
female portion of the voyagers to appear on the 
upper deck, and thither most of them repair, 
some to read, and others to lounge away the time, 
(which the regulations of the "vessel will not per- 
mit to be spent in games of chance,) under a 
cloudless sky, inhaling the balmy breeze ; while 
others prefer to read the holy Word, and meditate 
or converse upon the things of God, in the quiet 
of the almost deserted saloon. 



432 Romance Without Fiction. 

Within a week how great a change has been 
experienced ! Last Sabbath, overcoats, cloaks, 
and furs were in general requisition ; and even 
these were scarcely sufficient to protect the 
wearers against the chilling sharpness of the keen 
northerly breeze. Now all these wrappings are 
cast aside ; the genial breath of spring fans the 
cheek; and it is felt that England, with its fogs, 
and glooms, and ever-changing climate, is left far 
behind. 

The Sabbath is over. The gale has passed 
away, and left no traces of its power upon the face 
of the deep, now smooth and placid. With un- 
ruffled surface, as if it had never been agitated, 
the sea gently rises and falls, imparting scarcely 
any perceptible movement to the immense and • 
powerful fabric, which now urges her rapid prog- 
ress through -the water, like the courser straining 
every nerve to reach the appointed goal. The 
outspread awning extends a grateful shade over 
the spacious after-deck, and a gay and joyous 
multitude is gathered there. Children, set free 
from the imprisonment of the close and suffocating 
cabins below, and no longer laboring under the 
depressing influence of seasickness, are racing 
along the decks with all the careless hilarity of 
youth. Mothers are toying with their infant 
charge. The busy needle and the crochet-hook, 
plied by nimble fingers, are fulfilling their duty. 
Books and chess-boards are in demand. Every 
thing wears a smiling aspect. Even the thorough- 
bred horse, having ridden out the storm in his 



Crossing the Atlantic. 433 

box on deck, and the two monstrous sheep from 
the Cotswold Hills, as they waddle about the lower 
deck, appear pleased at the change in the weather. 
Indeed, there is nothing to show that the ship has 
been engaged in a protracted conflict with the 
elements, except it be the funnels whitened to the 
top with the spray that has dashed against them 
and left them incrusted with salt ; the broken 
framework at the bows, and the solitary piece of 
wreck left hanging to the davits when the life- 
boat was wrenched away ; together with the 
clothes of seamen and officers and passengers, 
spread out in the forepart of the vessel to dry in 
the rays of the now unclouded sun. 

It is interesting to survey the different groups 
into which the occupants of the deck are divided. 
Yonder is the family of a wealthy planter, pro- 
ceeding with a train of domestics to Bogota, in the 
far interior of South America, where he flourishes 
as a large landed proprietor, whose possessions 
are designed to be enriched by the well-bred 
stock forming part of the cargo. The sedate, 
quiet-looking gentleman, whose silvery locks de- 
note that more than sixty summers have passed 
over his head, is said to be the president of the 
privy council in the British island which contains 
his home. The matron at his elbow is his wife ; 
and the two young ladies near to them are their 
daughters, whose pale and sickly aspect would 
seem to indicate that they have crossed the At- 
lantic in vain search after health ; while the sable 
habiliments of the party show that they have 



434 Romance Without Fiction. 

recently endured the pang of separation from some 
one allied to them by affection or blood. A 
pitisne judge from one of the colonies promenades 
the deck, with his wife hanging on his arm ; while 
their children, some of them subjects of sore 
affliction, may be seen at play below, except one, 
whose more distressing case is hidden from sight. 
A general in the service of Louis Napoleon figures 
among the passengers; and an English professor 
of the healing art, remarkable for nothing except 
that he has. imbibed skeptical notions, of which he 
appears to be half ashamed, while his pious and 
intelligent wife is wholly so. A thick volume, 
which he has handed to a missionary as " a very 
deep book," turns out to be a Socialist publication, 
containing a miserably shallow, feeble, and impu- 
dent attempt to invalidate the holy Scriptures, and 
set aside man's accountability for his belief and 
his actions. ^ 

A group near the wheel-house is made up of 
West India planters. There are several from 
Barbadoes ; one of whom, a tall, thin, elderly per- 
sonage, once sympathized with the views and 
feelings of a wicked faction who destroyed the 
Wesleyan chapel in that island many years ago. 
But he has lived to come under better and holier 
influences; and he now rejoices over the downfall 
of slavery, which in former time he was ready to 
uphold, if needful, by sacrilege and murder. 
Another, from Jamaica, has adopted the narrow 
views which have long characterized his class in 
that island, and contributed largely to bring upon 



Crossing the Atlantic. 435 

it the blighting displeasure of a righteous God, and 
to overspread a beautiful colony with desolation 
and ruin. A new class of men, influenced by 
noble views, and adopting a more generous and 
common-sense policy, must be raised up to super- 
intend its cultivation ere Jamaica will arise from 
the dust, and share the agricultural and commer- 
cial prosperity which is revisiting other British 
possessions in the Caribbean Sea. A missionary 
party, also, swells the number of passengers. A 
Baptist missionary, after a few months' absence to 
recruit his health, is returning to his pastoral 
charge in the interior of Jamaica, having left his 
family in England until it shall be seen whether 
his spare frame has, by the brief sojourn " at home," 
acquired sufficient vigor to endure the wasting 
labors of a tropical climate. The meek and quiet 
spirit which he breathes, together with a shrewd 
and discriminating knowledge of men and things, 
augurs well for the Churches that shall be placed 
under his pastoral care. The other, a Wesleyan 
missionary, after several years' residence in En- 
gland, preceded by seventeen years of interesting 
toil among the negroes of the Caribbean group, is 
going back with his family to enter again upon that 
fruitful scene of labor. Sable vestments tell of 
recent inroads made by death upon that domestic 
circle. Three youthful females, not in mourning, 
help to make up the party, being the children of a 
missionary laborer still in the field, who, after 
seven years' absence at school, are returning to the 
shelter of the paternal roof. 

28 



436 Romance Without Fiction. 

A respectable-looking elderly gentleman, of true 
French loquacity, exhibits at his button-hole the 
symbol of the legion (Thonneur ; and, on inquiry, 
it is ascertained that he is proceeding to Guade- 
loupe, to assume the administration of the govern- 
ment of that colony. Another, with well-cultivated 
mustache and beard, but a decided mulatto, is 
on his way to the penal settlement of Cayenne, 
whither, under the iron rule of the Bonaparte who 
had grasped the reins of government with ener- 
getic hand, so many unfortunate Frenchmen have 
been banished. He goes to fill some important 
judicial appointment in that region of suffering' and 
death. A considerable company of French people 
of both sexes, mostly in the bloom of youth, are 
proceeding to California, in hope of reaping, as 
professors of the drama, a golden harvest in that 
community of treasure-seekers ; and two French 
families, comprising three generations, are return- 
ing, after a visit to Europe, to their adopted home 
in one of the colonies of Spain. 

Onward " La Plata " speeds, and casts behind 
her more than three hundred miles per day. With 
outspread sails, and the engines taxed to their 
utmost power, it is wonderful — it is fearful — to 
look over the stern,, and behold the rapidity with 
which the huge ship throws aside the yielding 
waters, and dashes onward to the goal. By the 
fury of the tempest more than two days of the 
fifteen allotted for her passage have been lost, 
and she must not lose her good name. " Keep 
her going," is the word, and well is the command 



Crossing the Atlantic. 437 

observed. Round and round go the ponderous 
wheels, with untiring play ; out of both her capa- 
cious funnels pour dense black continuous columns 
of smoke, stretching away for miles, as they unfold 
themselves in rolling clouds. Brightly gleams 
the fire, deep down in the hold ; while the en- 
gineers' assistants, seen from the deck through 
the iron grating, all begrimed and sooty, supply, 
with ceaseless and noisy activity, the all-consum- 
ing furnace. Day after day the vessel rises 
perceptibly, and sits more lightly on the waters, 
as her heavy freight of coal rapidly wastes its 
substance, not its " sweetness," " on the desert 
air." 

Onward she speeds, without intermission. 
Night and day her massive machinery keeps in 
motion, and away she flies. " What has she made 
to-day ? " is the eager inquiry of many of the 
passengers when the daily report of the vessel's 
progress is posted in the lobby. " Two hundred 
and ninety-one miles in twenty-four hours ; that 
is capital ! " " Three hundred and nine miles. 
Well done, ' La Plata ! ' " " Three hundred and 
sixteen miles. Hurrah ! we shall soon see St. 
Thomas, and may yet be in time for the homeward 
steamer." 

Onward she speeds. And now a blue and cloud- 
less sky stretches overhead, while the daily-in- 
creasing heat drives all the passengers within the 
friendly shade of the awning for shelter from 
burning rays. Shoals of porpoises are seen in the 
distance, disporting in the waves, slowly and lazily 



438 Romance Without Fiction, 

lifting their backs above the surface, and then dis- 
appearing to emerge again, as if they reveled in the 
very luxuriance of enjoyment. Flying-fish, dart- 
ing in numbers from the bows of the vessel, dis- 
play for a moment their tiny wings, glittering like 
molten silver in their rapid flight from the unknown 
danger which has invaded their quiet, before they 
sink again into their native element. Every thing 
indicates that " La Plata " is nearing the imaginary 
line by which geographers mark the northern 
boundary of the tropics ; and, before the Sabbath 
dawns again, that boundary is passed, and the 
thermometer stands at nearly 8o° in the shade. 

It is now the morning of the holy day— the 
Lord's day— which, with wisdom worthy of him- 
self, and in matchless benevolence to man, the 
almighty Governor of the world requires to be 
consecrated to religion. Blessed day, best of all 
the seven ! — Heaven's choice gift to man, speak- 
ing, with silent, resistless eloquence, of God ; the 
standing, imperishable memorial of man's im- 
mortal nature and his lofty destiny. It is not for- 
gotten in " La Plata " that the Sabbath has dawned. 
No sports are in progress. The chess-boards 
are cleared away, and a subdued tone of feel- 
ing prevails throughout the ship. Here and there 
a passenger may be seen quietly seated in the 
saloon, or within some friendly shade on deck, 
with a book, the size and form of which would in- 
dicate that it is of all books the best— the volume 
of revealed truth. Even among those whose 
exuberance of animal spirits declares itself in 



Crossing the Atlantic. 439 

boisterous merriment and sport on other days, 
there is a sobriety of deportment which shows that 
by them also the influence of the Sabbath is felt. 
The breakfast hour is drawing nigh, when the 
purser approaches one of the small reading-parties 
grouped in the saloon, and, delivering the compli- 
ments of Captain Weller to the missionary who. is 
of the party, requests to be informed if it will be 
agreeable to him to conduct Divine service after 
breakfast in the saloon. The answer is in the 
affirmative, and the word passes through the ship 
that there will be " Church " at half past ten 
o'clock. As the appointed hour draws nigh a 
temporary reading-desk, covered with the Union 
Jack, Britain's pride and glorious ensign, is fixed 
on one side of the saloon, near the center, and 
seats are arranged to accommodate the greatest 
number that the space will admit. The bell begins 
to toil, and the saloon soon presents a pleasing 
and animated scene. There are many Roman 
Catholics among the passengers, but not one is so 
much under the influence of bigotry as to turn a 
deaf ear to the summons of the church-going bell : 
" O come, let us worship and bow down : let us 
kneel before the Lord our maker." All direct their 
footsteps to the saloon, and seat themselves with 
decorous gravity on the seats arranged for their 
reception. Even the half-skeptical surgeon, with 
his meek-looking wife upon his arm, is seen, with 
gilded Bible and Prayer-book, marching to take 
the seat which two of M La Plata's " officers have 
politely vacated in honor of the lady. The cap- 



440 Romance Without Fiction. 

tain, and all the officers not on duty, are grouped 
together, in the neat uniform of the company, near 
the upper end of the saloon, the central seats are 
filled with hardy, bushy-whiskered tars, in clean 
dark -blue shirts, edged and turned up with white ; 
while the stewards, with their staff of assistants, 
and several deck passengers, unable to push their 
way into the well-filled saloon, occupy the lobby. 
The bell ceases ; and then ascends to heaven the 
voice of prayer and praise in the beautiful liturgic- 
al service of the Church of England. If the eye, 
glancing over that assembly, fails to discover in- 
dications of intense devotional feeling, there is, 
nevertheless, every -where a quiet decorum, even 
on the part of those whose ignorance of the lan- 
guage might have furnished them with a reasonable 
apology for declining to be present. Many are 
furnished with Prayer-books, and the responses 
are given with pleasing distinctness ; while the 
life-giving word is heard with grave and earnest 
attention. The solemn service is over, and the 
benediction pronounced within the time pre- 
scribed ; for it is necessary that the captain and 
other officers should be on deck before the sun is 
on the meridian, that they may ascertain the true 
position of the ship, and mark the distance she 
has run since the preceding noon. The sextants 
are now in requisition, while the passengers and 
crew are scattered over the vessel ; and the agree- 
able intelligence is speedly posted, that the ship 
has made three hundred and seven miles in the 
last twenty-four hours, 



Crossing the Atlantic. 441 

Monday night has come. Fourteen days have 
sped since " La Plata " loosed from her moorings 
at Southampton^ The look-out has been doubled 
at the bows ; and two or three officers, with tele- 
scope to the eye, are earnestly sweeping the hori- 
zon. One figure, enwrapped in shaggy coat, (for 
a slight shower occasionally passes over the ship,) 
is recognized as the captain. Two or three of the 
passengers still remain on deck, although it is near 
the midnight hour, and frequently join the party 
on the look-out. It is about the time when, accord- 
ing to the calculations which have been made, 
land should be visible ; and the captain and offi- 
cers are expecting every moment to discover the 
small island of Sombrero, the first which it is 
usual for the royal mail steamers to make on their 
outward passage. Two bells after midnight, and 
no land appears. The night is squally and cloudy, 
and the moon is often overcast. Possibly, the is- 
land being low and flat, the ship may have run past 
it altogether. Four bells toll the lapse of another 
hour, while still there is no appearance of land ; 
and the two or three passengers who have lingered 
on deck, gathering from the conversation of the 
officers that Sombrero must have been passed, re- 
tire, reluctant and disappointed, to their berths. 
Daybreaks, and^he intelligence spreads through 
the ship that there is land in sight. The wel- 
come information banishes slumber, and many 
of the passengers dress hastily and assemble on 
deck, gazing with intense interest on the highland 
of Virgin Gorda, one of the Virgin group of islands, 



442 Romance Without Fiction. 

The mountain land of Tortola soon after appears 
in sight ; and, by the time a hasty breakfast has 
been disposed of, u La Plata " has her prow- 
directed toward the harbor of St. Thomas. An 
American frigate, with a commodore's broad 
pennant, is seen at anchor at the quarantine 
ground, a short distance from the mouth of the 
harbor ; and it is afterward ascertained that she is 
the " Columbine/' with the small-pox prevalent 
among her crew — a disease which receives a fear- 
ful aggravation of malignity when it breaks out 
within the tropics. There is land on both sides 
of our ship ; for she has now entered the mouth 
of the harbor, and the pretty town gradually comes 
into view. It is a place of romantic aspect, as 
seen from the shipping. The business part of the 
town stretches along the shore for the best part of 
a mile, containing numerous and well-stocked 
stores and shops ; while the principal residences of 
the inhabitants rise one above another, on three 
small hills, presenting the appearance of three 
pyramids. The white buildings are here and 
there variegated with yellow and other colors, and 
the roofs are painted red ; finely contrasting with 
the rich tropical verdure which clothes the higher 
hills in the background to their summits. At the 
point of one of these pyramids is a tower which 
bears the designation of " Bluebeard's Castle," 
probably the former residence of a buccaneer 
chief whose character and doings bears a resem- 
blance to those of the hero of the story so familiar 
to our childhood. A considerable amount of 



Crossing the Atlantic. 443 

shipping is at anchor in the bay, from which may- 
be seen floating the Danish, French, American, 
and Spanish flags ; and, conspicuous among the 
numerous vessels which crowd the spacious land- 
locked harbor are the several ships of the Royal 
Mail Steam-Packet Company, distinguished by 
the Company's flag flying at the mast-head, waiting 
to receive each its consignment of mails, cargo, 
and passengers, to be carried to their destination . 
some to Havana and the gulf of Mexico ; others 
to the Isthmus of Panama, over which they cross 
to the Pacific ; others, again, to Hayti and 
Jamaica ; and others to Demerara, and the several 
islands comprised in what is termed, among the 
company's officers and agents, " the island route." 
The vessel has scarcely reached her moorings 
when she is boarded by several parties from the 
shore, and the unwelcome intelligence spreads 
through " La Plata " that none of the passengers 
can be permitted to land. The terrible cholera 
has found his way thither ; a fearful panic prevails, 
business is almost entirely suspended ; and scarcely 
any thing can be attended to but the sick, and 
dying, and the dead, who are borne by scores to 
the grave day after day. The quarantine laws are 
rigidly enforced at all the islands where the pesti- 
lence has not yet broken out ; and a notice is 
posted in the lobby of " La Plata " that none of 
the passengers can be carried on in the company's 
ships, if they venture to go on shore at St. Thomas, 
as they will not be permitted to land at the several 
islands. In the neighboring island of Tortola, 



444 Romance Without Fiction. 

also, the plague is committing dreadful ravages ; 
and at Nevis, too, numbers are dying every day. 
Such is the gloomy greeting which our passengers 
meet at St. Thomas ; and blank disappointment 
is the expression on the face of many who were of 
late reveling in the delightful anticipation of a 
pleasant run on shore, associated with gay visions 
of oranges, and bananas, and pine-apples, and 
the numerous and varied productions of a tropical 
clime. 

All is now bustle and excitementin " La Plata." 
With an intercolonial steamer on either side, and 
a sort of temporary wooden bridge stretching from 
her gangway to theirs, the process of transshipping 
cargo and passengers, with their baggage, is carried 
on with all possible dispatch ; and, in a few hours, 
both the smaller vessels are seen, under full power 
of steam, passing out of the harbor, while other 
two are immediately warped alongside the trans- 
atlantic ship. At daylight on the following morn- 
ing these also, having received each its own por- 
tion of mails and passengers, proceed to their des- 
tination ; and the large company of persons, who 
for more than two weeks have been associated on 
terms of greater or less intimacy, are soon scattered 
widely abroad over the world, to assemble no 
more until the last trumpet shall summon them all 
to the judgment throne. 



A Child of Sorrow. 445 



XXII. 

A Child of Sorrow. 

Ox thee, my God, I rest letting life float freely on ; 
For I know the last is best when the crown of joy is won. 
In thy might all things I hear, in thy love find bitters sweet, 
And with all my grief and care sit in patience at thy feet. 

TeOM THE GrBBMAH OF A. H. F&ABCKB. 



'TIT 



T was a painful spectacle that met my gaze 
Jit when, standing by the bedside of one sadly 
disfigured by leprous disease, a feeble voice 
said, " The Lord's will be done, minister. If the 
Master had seen good, I should have liked you to 
see me laid in my last resting-place. But it is all 
right, and I shall .meet you in our Father's house 
above." 

Such were the hopeful words of a true child of 
sorrow, in whom the all-sufficiency of Divine grace 
to sustain and comfort in lengthened and compli- 
cated affliction had been wondrously exemplified, 
and to whom I was bidding farewell on the eve of 
embarking for my native land. For ten years I 
had been accustomed to visit that chamber of 
suffering, imparting the consolations of the 
Gospel to a chastened saint, receiving from her 
example of cheerful resignation lessons of sub- 
mission and patient endurance, and marking the 



446 Romance Without Fiction. 

triumph of a lowly, trusting spirit, that in the 
midst of overwhelming sorrow could always re- 
joice in God. 

When first I became acquainted with Mrs. H. 
she had lately become a widow under circum- 
stances of a most painful character. The husband 
of her youth and partner of her ripened years, in 
a fit of temporary derangement, had put an end 
to his own life. They had lived together most 
happily, until pecuniary embarrassment, preying 
upon a mind not strengthened and sustained by 
the experience of religion, caused reason to give 
way, and he sought refuge from his grief by drown- 
ing himself, leaving a widow and three children 
overwhelmed with affliction at their great loss, for 
he had been both a kind husband and a tender, 
loving parent. How fearfully the pang of separa- 
tion was aggravated by the tragic mode in which 
it was brought about can, perhaps, only be fully 
apprehended by those who have passed through a 
similar trial! It fell with all the weight of a 
crushing terror upon the loving hearts so tenderly 
united to each other, and so fondly attached to 
him, the family head, who had suddenly dropped 
into a premature grave, 

Religion, with its benignant influence, minis- 
tered consolation to the family and soothed the 
wounded spirits of the bereaved ones, for they had 
happily received the saving truths of the Gospel, 
and sheltered by faith beneath the wings of the 
Divine mercy. They found in this dark hour of 
sorrow how good and sweet it is to have the soul 



A Child of Sorrow. i\aj 

resting on God, and sustained with the hope 
of immortal life. But the heart-stricken widow 
had still one earthly source of comfort and joy, 
shedding a cheerful light around her, and bright- 
ening the gloom of that dark shadow which 
had fallen across the pathway of her life. 
Her youngest child was a son, a gracious youth, 
whose heart had been surrendered to God, and 
whose early life, not yet ripened into man- 
hood, was giving rich promise of a good and use- 
ful career. Glad and grateful was the mother's 
heart when she saw her two lovely girls turn aside 
from all the gayeties and allurements of the world 
and choose, like Mary, the better part ; and be- 
held in them, as youthful members of the Church 
of Christ, the development of an earnest and 
practical piety. But her cup was full of bless- 
ing when her heart's yearnings were gratified, and 
the fervent prayers of some years were answered 
in the conversion of her boy. Her whole soul ex- 
panded with joy and gratitude to God when she 
saw unfolded in her cherished son those qualities 
which are the best guarantee for a blameless and 
happy life. 

It was an inexpressible relief to the widow, when 
the great trouble came to the family in the loss of 
its head, to look upon the manly youth as one 
who could both soothe her grief and guard her in 
some measure against that tide of evils and cares 
which the husband's death could not fail to let in 
upon her. And well and nobly did he respond to 
her hopes. There are occasions in human life 



448 Romance Without Fiction. 

when the events of a day will do the work of years 
in the development of character. All at once the 
youth expands into the man of full-grown facul- 
ties, or the girl shoots up into the mature, sedate, 
and thoughtful woman, armed with unshrinking . 
fortitude to enter upon the battle of life. So it was 
with the widow's son. The calamity that brought 
such terrible grief into the hitherto happy family 
seemed to awaken and call into full and vigorous 
life the nobler faculties of the young man. 
Though scarcely half-way through his teens, he 
stepped into the place made vacant by his father's 
death, a clear-headed, sagacious man of business, 
the pillar of the bereaved household, the mother's 
joy, and the sisters' pride and hope. It is well we 
do not see far enough into the future to perceive 
the dark clouds that are gathering upon our path, 
or how would every present joy be blighted and 
life rendered supremely wretched by the anticipa- 
tion of coming woe ! 

A year had fled, and time had healed in some 
measure the heart-wounds of the family. The 
young protector of his widowed mother and un- 
married sisters had developed qualities which 
commanded universal esteem and confidence, and 
was advancing with rapid steps to an advantageous 
business position. His excellent prospects might 
be improved by a voyage to New York and per- 
sonal communication with men of business in that 
emporium of commerce. It was before the time 
when steam afforded the means of secure and 
speedy transit, and the young man took his pas- 



A Child of Sorrow. 449 

sage in one of the numerous merchant vessels 
bringing continental produce to the Western Ar- 
chipelago. He embarked, expecting to be away 
only a few weeks. But — mysterious Providence ! 
— the unfortunate vessel foundered at sea and was 
never heard of more. 

TJiie time came when those whom he had left 
behind looked with anxious expectation, whenever 
a vessel came from the States, to hear of the safe 
arrival of the loved one, to be followed by his 
speedy return. But no letter came. Days and 
weeks passed, and expectation deepened into 
agonizing suspense and anxiety. How often did 
those fond hearts pour themselves out in earnest 
prayer for the safety of the absent one, hope still 
flattering them with the prospect of his return, 
who, alas ! was slumbering in death beneath the 
Atlantic wave ! 

Months rolled on. Still no tidings, and sorrow, 
aggravated by suspense, settled down again upon 
the family, which had already so keenly felt the 
storms of adversity. Hope whispered that he 
might yet turn up to gladden their eyes and hearts 
with his presence, for had not many done so after 
being a long time missing ? But as the year 
passed away, and intelligence came that the ship 
had never reached her destination, and other ves- 
sels were missing, supposed to have perished in a 
storm which occurred about that time near the 
American coast, hope gradually died out, giving 
place to the dreadful certainty that his young life 
had been engulfed by the stormy ocean, and that 



450 Romance Without Fiction. 

the manly beauty of that form so dearly loved 
would rejoice their sight no more. 

So it proved. No tidings of the hapless bark 
were ever received. Like many another vessel 
traversing the Atlantic between the northern con- 
tinent and the isles which inclose the Caribbean 
Sea, she went down with all hands on b<^ird. 
None remained alive to relate the details of the 
sad catastrophe which had suddenly swept so 
many human beings into eternity. And crushed 
hearts were left behind, painfully to realize the 
evanescent and uncertain character of earth's best 
and purest blessings. 

Dark indeed was the gloom which settled upon 
the spirit of the poor widow as the stern conviction 
was forced upon her, after long resistance, that 
the only son, so well deserving all the fond love 
she lavished upon him, had found a watery grave, 
and that an inscrutable Providence had again 
thrown her, with blighted prospects, upon a course 
of privation and anxious care. But still upheld 
by the all-sufficiency of divine grace, she could 
bow in uncomplaining submission to God's will, 
and say, " It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth 
him good." 

It was a dark and mysterious dispensation, but 
a ray of brightness shone athwart the cloud. The 
eldest daughter had been married to a worthy 
man, who was willing generously to share his home 
and the proceeds of a not very lucrative business 
with the bereaved ones, and devote himself to 
more wearying toil, that he might impart a higher 



A Child of Sorrow. 451 

degree of comfort to the refuge he was able to 
afford them. In all this the sorrowing widow and 
mother recognized the loving kindness of the 
Lord, regarding it as proof that the heavenly Fa- 
ther was not unmindful of her in her affliction. 
With thankful heart she acknowledged that love 
and wisdom were beneficently intermingled in 
those chastenings of that Father's hand, which, for 
the present, were not joyous, but grievous. 

All this was, however, but the beginning of sor- 
rows to the afflicted widow. Great bitterness had 
yet to be mingled with the cup she was called to 
drink. A most wasting and wearying tribulation 
had yet to bruise her chastened spirit before it was 
made fully meet for the inheritance of the saints 
in light, aud fitted to bear the far more exceeding 
and eternal weight of glory which her heavenly 
Father's love was preparing for her enjoyment in 
that brighter world within the vail. In her 
younger days a face of remarkable beauty, and a 
figure of faultless grace, had distinguished the 
Quadroon maiden, which, but for the influence of 
religion early embraced, would have exposed her 
to many temptations. And even now that youth- 
ful charms have somewhat faded with ripening 
years, she is still a woman of queenly presence, 
and sufficient grace of form and feature remains 
to bear witness to the charms with which she was 
gifted in the days that are past. 

It is upon that person once so lovely, and still 
so fine in its proportions and graceful in its motions, 
that the blghting hand of the destroyer is next to 

29 



452 Romance Without Fiction. 

rest, until, wasted, deformed, and mutilated, it is 
changed into an object which exhibits a mournful 
contrast, and affords a painful illustration of the 
apostle's phraseology, " This vile body." Very 
slowly certain changes begin to show themselves 
in the features, gradually obliterating all the 
lines of beauty that once rendered them so 
attractive. To eyes accustomed to the develop- 
ments of tropical disease, the puffy swellings, pro- 
ducing great disfigurement of the countenance, as 
they present themselves, appear to be the heralds 
of one of those loathsome leprous complaints 
which are such a terrible scourge to the denizens 
of countries within, or near, the tropics. The 
leprosy is an insidious disease, that with fear- 
ful slowness, but with unerring certainty, through 
a long course of years preys upon the extremities 
and gradually approaches the citadel of life, until 
a course of horrible suffering terminates in a wel- 
come death. This terrible evil has come upon the 
Christian widow. The dread malady of the leper, 
with its long train of humiliations and sufferings, 
slowly reveals its hideous symptoms ; and it be- 
comes evident that the sorely-stricken one, who 
has passed through such a succession of trials, is 
marked out to be a child of sorrow, and to 
endure adversity which shall end only when the 
worn and wasted frame shall sink to its rest in the 
dust. 

Some months elapse, after the disease becomes 
too apparent for its real character to be mistaken, 
before the afflicted one is necessitated to discon- 



A Child of Sorrow. 453 

tinue her attendance upon those ordinances of the 
sanctuary which, for many years, have been her 
soul's delight and source of strength, and she is 
compelled to shut herself up in the chamber of 
suffering, which must be her prison until she is 
carried thence to the grave. Meanwhile she 
continues to meet her class of female members of 
the Church, and weekly to administer those coun- 
sels of godly wisdom by which many have been 
strengthened in the conflict of life, and encouraged 
to run with patience the race set before them. 
How diligently and earnestly does she labor in 
Christian duties ! How anxiously does she avail 
herself of all religious ordinances ! The night is 
coming when she can no longer work. She sees 
clearly the dark cloud before her that will shortly 
enwrap her in its folds. She is in the grasp of an 
enemy not to be shaken off. The time is not 
far distant when she will enter the sanctuary of 
God no more, and she must be a prisoner until 
her Master shall send her release by death. At 
present no opportunity of getting or doing good is 
omitted. 

At length she is no longer able to repair to 
God's house and hear for herself the word of 
life. The weekly class-meeting is held in the 
sick chamber, whither the members repair to hold 
fellowship with their afflicted leader, whom they 
may see and speak to, but dare not touch. Her 
chastened, hallowed spirit seems drawn, through 
sanctified suffering, into closer communion with 
God, and grows in conformity to the likeness of 



454 Romance Without Fiction. 

the meek and lowly Son of man. And many, a 
season of sweet spiritual refreshing do they 
realize while bowing in united prayer in that 
chamber of the sick, pouring out their hearts be- 
fore the Lord. 

It was about the time that her health began to 
decline that I became associated with the pastoral 
care of the Church in which this daughter of 
affliction was held in universal esteem as one of 
its official members. For a few months only I saw 
her in her place in the sanctuary. When she 
could no more be seen there I sought her in her 
home. There I often listened to the quiet breath- 
ings of a soul calmly stayed on God, whose un- 
wavering reliance upon the Divine wisdom and 
love imparted an elasticity and cheerfulness which 
no amount of sorrow seemed sufficient to suppress. 
That she might be permitted to lay the weary, 
wasting body down, and pass to that world of 
unclouded joy, where sickness and grief are never 
known, was certainly an object of strong desire 
with her; but there was always the most perfect 
resignation. Well did she understand the linger- 
ing nature of the malady that had seized upon her ; 
but she seemed to have grown so fully into the 
mind and image of the Lord as to feel and say 
with him, " O my Father, if it be possible, let this 
cup pass from me : nevertheless, not my will, but 
thine be done." 

For seven years she was directly under my 
pastoral charge ; and during three other years, 
when my duties lay elsewhere, she claimed and 



A Child of Sorrow. 455 

received my visits whenever business called me to 
the city. The chief sorrow that pressed upon her 
mind was the privation of religious ordinances ; 
which, through all the changes of her life, from 
her youth, had been her great delight. To meet, 
in some measure, this want, I was accustomed, six 
or eight times in each year, to conduct a preaching 
service in the room adjoining her chamber of sick- 
ness ; as many of her Christian friends attending 
as the apartment would conveniently accommodate, 
the room being always full. This was followed on 
each occasion by the sacramental ordinance. 
More than once I have taken a journey of forty 
miles for the purpose of affording to this suffering 
saint the gratification of hearing the word of truth. 
Her delight in these services was very great. 
Her soul fed upon them with the joy that the 
famishing may be supposed to feel in the meal 
which allays the craving of their hunger ; while 
others, who were privileged to attend them, found 
them to be eminently seasons of refreshing from 
the presence of the Lord. 

Years rolled on, and there still lay the submis- 
sive sufferer ; the loving hands of two excellent 
pious daughters ministering to her need and com- 
fort with tender care and untiring assiduity. 
Both were beautiful to contemplate : the mother's 
unchanging patience under the complicated afflic- 
tions that were surely dragging her down to the 
grave, and the never wearying filial love of the 
daughters, waiting and watching to soothe and 
help the afflicted one. Slow — fearfully slow — was 



456 Romance Without Fiction. 

the progress of the fatal malady that was disfigur- 
ing and consuming the frail body, and it was only 
in the lapse of months and years that its inroads 
became apparent. Swelling of the joints first took 
away the power of locomotion, and laid the patient 
prostrate. As time rolled on, sores and ulcers, 
breaking out upon the hands and feet, showed the 
corrupted state of the blood. No power of medi- 
cine could establish a healing process ; and gradu- 
ally both fingers and toes were eaten away, and 
the limbs became incurably distorted and dis- 
abled. 

At the commencement of the disease the 
countenance first exhibited its sad effects. All 
traces of former comeliness were soon effaced by 
painful swellings and distortions, and the unnatural 
appearance of the skin, which is the usual accom- 
paniment of the malady. But, with this exception, 
for six or seven years its deadly ravages chiefly 
affected the limbs, eating them away by slow de- 
grees. At length these ravages extended to the 
nobler parts, showing that it was approaching the 
citadel of life. Sores and ulcers made their ap- 
pearance about the eyes, and other parts of the 
head and face. The sight became extinguished, 
the orbs of vision being eaten away as the ex- 
tremities had been. Then the hearing began to 
fail, and the countenance gradually exhibited 
such painful manifestations of the progress of the 
dire disease that it became necessary to keep it 
vailed. 

It was at this stage of the malady that I 



A Child of Sorrow. 457 

preached for the last time, in the doorway near to 
her bed side, and afterward bade her farewell, to 
see«her no more in this life. For nearly ten years 
she had lain upon that bed, scarcely ever free 
from excruciating pain, after having been most 
painfully bereft both of husband and son. But in 
all this she charged not God foolishly ; exhibiting 
the most perfect example of patient suffering it has 
ever been my lot to witness. No complaint or 
murmur was ever heard to drop from her lips, 
even by those who were in constant attendance 
upon her, through all the weary years of her pro- 
tracted trial. She was always, cheerful and happy ; 
possessed of the sweet assurance that she was in 
the hands of a' loving Father, who could do no 
wrong ; and that her affliction, in his unfailing 
wisdom, was working for her a far more exceeding 
and eternal weight of glory. I left her with 
those words upon her lips which form the com- 
mencement of this paper. They were painfully 
and indistinctly uttered, for the power of speech 
was also beginning to fail. On the next day, after 
seventeen years of missionary toil, I embarked on 
my homeward voyage. 

She continued to suffer on for a few months lon- 
ger, when the welcome messenger came at length 
to summon her to the joy of her Lord. In sweet 
peace and triumph she left the corrupted, suffering, 
mutilated body to find its rest in the dust ; while 
the chastened spirit took its flight to the triumph- 
ant Church before the throne of God. When the 
news of her departure reached me some thousands 



458 Romance Without Fiction. 

of miles across the sea, rejoicing in the all-sufficient 
grace which had enabled this suffering disciple, 
through so many years, to exhibit a beautiful ex- 
ample of unfailing patience and unmurmuring 
resignation, I thought of the beautiful words of 
Charles Wesley : 

" This languishing head is at rest, 

Its thinking and aching are o'er ; 
This quiet immovable breast 

Is heav'd by affliction no more : 
This heart is no longer the seat 

Of trouble and torturing pain ; 
It ceases to flutter and beat, 

It never shall flutter again." 



The Funeral Sermon. 459 



XXIII. 

The Funeral Sermon. 

Go and dig my grave to day ! 

Homeward doth my jonrney tend, 
And I lay my staff away 

Here where all things earthly end, 
And I lay my weary head 
In the only painless bed. 

Weep not; my Redeemer lives ; 

Heavenward springing from the dnst, 
Clear-eyed Hope her comfort gives ; 

Faith, Heaven's champion, bids ns trust. 
Love eternal whispers nigh, 
" Child of God, fear not to die 1 " 

Feom the German of E. M. Aendt. 

k EAR Christian friends, I am come this 
morning to preach Mr. Wood's funeral 
sermon, and I shall at the same time 
preach my- own also ; for I expect that I shall very- 
soon be laid beside my predecessor, who is rest- 
ing in yonder new made grave." 

Such was the startling address with which a 
young missionary commenced his labors at St. 
Ann's Bay, on the north side of Jamaica, in the 
year 1835. It had been a year of great mortality in 
the island. The yellow fever had extended its 
frightful ravages far and wide among the people, 
and already, within three months, the grave had 
closed over four missionary laborers, swept away 




460 Romance Without Fiction. 

in the prime of their usefulness. Others mourned 
over the sudden removal of partners and children, 
fallen before the march of the fell disease which 
had carried death and sorrow into many a happy- 
home. 

Mr. Wood was the last of the four missionaries 
who in rapid succession had sunk into the grave, 
leaving large congregations and Churches bereft 
of pastoral care and the ministry of the word of 
life. A man of great muscular energy, and full 
of life and vigorous health, he had succumbed in 
a few days to the power of the fever. His sudden 
removal was greatly mourned by a loving people, 
for whom he had suffered virulent persecution and 
labored with self-sacrificing zeal. But chiefly is 
he lamented by the youthful widow, who only a 
few weeks before had rejoiced to become his bride, 
and accompany him across the broad Atlantic, to 
share his hallowed toil among the children of 
oppression in the isles of the west. 

The removal of so many missionaries to their 
reward in so brief a period rendered it a difficult 
task for those whose province it was to fill up the 
vacancies occasioned by their death, and afford to 
the bereaved congregations even a partial supply 
of ministerial labor. But the best arrangements 
the case admitted of were made until further help 
could be obtained from England ; and Mr. Wal- 
ters was appointed to remove from Spanish Town to 
St. Ann's Bay, to supply the place of the lamented 
Mr. Wood. He was a young man of slender, 
delicate frame, and highly nervous temperament, 



The Funeral Sermon, 461 

and had been a little more than four years labor- 
ing among the Churches of Jamaica. Of his piety 
and devotedness to his work his brethren had 
justly formed a high estimate. It was not, there- 
fore, without surprise that they heard him beg to 
be excused from taking the appointment that had 
been arranged for him, and earnestly request that, 
if practicable, he might be allowed to go else- 
where, and some other person be sent to fill the 
vacancy at St. Ann's Bay. He would not refuse 
to go if his brethren thought it right to persist in 
carrying their arrangements into effect ; but he en- 
treated that they would modify their plans, as he 
felt an unconquerable aversion to that particular 
appointment. Being pressed to state the^ground 
of his objection more particularly, after some hesi- 
tation he said that, though he could not account 
for it, he had a deep impression on his mind that 
if sent to St. Ann's Bay he would die there ; and 
he fully believed that if he went as they had ap- 
pointed him, in two or three weeks he would be 
lying by the side of Mr. Wood. 

Regarding this feeling merely as the effect of 
nervous sensibility wrought upon by the painful 
events which had been transpiring for several 
months, the assembled ministers thought it better 
on the whole not to attach too much importance 
to what they considered a groundless impression. 
Moreover, they found it exceedingly difficult to 
provide in any other way for the necessities of 
the case, and therefore decided to abide by what 
they had proposed. Mr. Walters without further 



462 Romance Without Fiction. 

remonstrance submitted and consented to go, not 
concealing the impression which still remained, 
that he was going to St. Ann's Bay not to labor, 
but to die. 

The next Sabbath finds the young missionary at 
his appointed scene of labor. Several years have 
elapsed since the sanctuary here was destroyed 
by violent and unreasonable men, who had com- 
bined together to drive the Christian missionary 
from the land, and deprive the enslaved children 
of Africa of the religious teaching which was their 
only solace and comfort under the multiplied evils 
and wrongs of their degraded condition. As yet 
the means have not been obtained to restore the 
sanctuary which sacrilegious hands have demol- 
ished and laid waste. But the hymn of praise and 
the voice of prayer, and the joyful sound of a 
preached Gospel, after many months of enforced 
silence are again heard, and crowds assemble Sab- 
bath after Sabbath to listen to the. truth by which 
not a few of them have been made wise unto salva- 
tion. There lie the ruins of the house of prayer 
scattered on the ground, bearing witness to the 
savage violence which for a while reigned 
triumphant, setting all law and authority at 
defiance. 

Hard by is the burial-ground connected with the 
demolished chapel, where many a saint sleeps in 
hope of a joyful resurrection. Here, among the 
graves, and overshadowed by the wide-spreading 
plume-like leaves of the luxuriant cocoa-nut trees, 
may be seen a large white canvas tent, which 



The Funeral Sermon. 463 

serves to screen a portion of the congregation from 
the scorching rays of the tropical sun, and the 
.heavy showers of rain which occasionally fall while 
they assemble in this resting-place of the departed 
to join in hallowed services and listen to the word 
of life. At a little distance from the tent there is 
to be seen a fresh mound of earth that marks the 
spot underneath which lie the earthly remains of 
the faithful missionary, who passed only a few days 
ago within the vail, resting in hope of a glorious 
resurrection. 

When the stranger who has come to fill the place 
of their lamented pastor arrives upon the spot the 
tent is filled, and there is a crowd all around. 
All are arrayed in such mourning as they have 
been able to obtain, to testify respect for their 
departed minister ; some standing, others sitting 
upon stools and chairs they have brought with 
them for the purpose. The morning is bright and 
beautiful, and the gentle sea-breeze fills the air 
with delicious coolness. The young missionary, 
as he steps to the place assigned to him near the 
opening of the tent where the books are placed 
upon the table, casts his eyes around, and regards 
it as the most interesting scene he has ever looked 
upon, notwithstanding the gloomy presentiment 
which has preoccupied his mind. As he surveys 
the multitude, after rising from his knees, he finds 
that all eyes are directed toward the new minister, 
the observed of all observers. They look upon 
the person of a stranger whom few of them have 
ever seen before but it is with a loving gaze. 



464 Romance Without Fiction. 

That he is a minister of Christ, come to preach to 
them the great salvation, is sufficient to commend 
him to a warm place in their hearts. His face 
and figure are exceedingly juvenile, far below his 
years. No trace of hirsute growth appears, and 
the features are thin and pallid, as if emaciated by 
wasting fever. It is, however, only the aspect 
which his countenance ordinarily wears, though 
it serves to increase the startling effect of the 
preacher's first address to the mourning people 
around him : " Dear Christian friends, I am 
come this morning to preach Mr. Wood's funeral 
sermon, and I shall at the same time preach my 
own also." 

Strange feelings rushed through many hearts as 
they gazed upon that face, so different in its pale- 
ness and emaciation from the full, florid coun- 
tenance of the lamented one now slumbering close 
at hand in the silent grave. They wondered at 
the words of dark meaning that fell from those 
lips from which they were hoping to t hear many 
times the enunciation of soul-quickening truths 
that had been to many of them, in the midst of 
persecution and danger, life from the dead. But 
the service goes on. After the morning prayers 
have been read comes the hymn, the first stanza 
of which wakes up a world of mournful and glo- 
rious thoughts : 

" Hark ! a voice divides the sky ; 
Happy are the faithful dead ! " 

How these words thrill like a trumpet note through 
the souls of the hearers, lifting them at once to 



TJie Fimeral Sermon. 465 

that upper world where the ascended one has 
already united with the multitude brought 
out of great tribulation, who have washed their 
robes and made them white in the blood of the 
Lamb, and are therefore before the throne of 
God ! While they sing the following lines, so 
inspiring, so full of triumphant joy, tears of 
gratitude roll down many a cheek as they an- 
ticipate the hour when they two shall enter 
there, and, 

" Mortals cry, ' A man is dead ! ' 
Angels sing, ' A child is born ! ' " 

Next a prayer is offered, then a hymn, and after 
that the sermon, founded upon Rev. xiv, 13 : "I 
heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, 
Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from 
henceforth : Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may 
rest from their labors ; and their works do follow 
them." At the close of the sermon the preacher 
gives a brief account of the religious history of 
the deceased minister; his conversion, religious 
character, and experience, and his triumphant 
death. " And I too," adds the speaker, "am 
come to die among you, and find my last rest- 
ing-place yonder by the side of your beloved 
pastor, who has so recently passed to our Fa- 
ther's house above ; " concluding several other 
remarks upon the subject of his own speedy re- 
moval to the better land, with an earnest exhorta- 
tion to diligence in the Master's service, and 
with the prayer that all, both preachers and 



466 Romance Without Fiction. 

hearers, might be found ready for the coming of 
the Lord. 

The hour for the afternoon service finds the 
young minister somewhat indisposed, so that it is 
deemed advisable for a local preacher to occupy 
his place in the sanctuary. As night comes on 
severe pains across the loins and a racking frontal 
headache, rendering it difficult to keep the eyes 
open, betoken the insidious approach of the fever, 
and warn the experienced nurses, who have already 
spontaneously gathered to take care of the minis- 
ter, as they are always wont to do when sickness 
enters the missionary household, that it is not a 
slight attack with which the patient is threatened. 
A medical practitioner is summoned, and accord- 
ing to the mistaken ideas of medical practice 
which prevail, prejudicial to the safety of many a 
patient, copious draughts of blood are drained 
from a frame already too much debilitated for the 
fierce conflict with the terrible malady which seems 
to threaten. Powerful doses of calomel are also 
administered, more calculated to aid than to check 
the progress of the disease. 

Through a restless night the quick vacillating 
pulse, the dry, hot "skin, and a quenchless thirst, 
tell with what powerful grasp the fever has laid 
hold upon the system. Blistering, bleeding, strong 
medicines are all powerless to arrest its progress, 
until about the fifth day, when the skin begins to 
exhibit the bright yellow hue which often proves 
to be a fatal symptom and the immediate fore- 
runner of death. It is this that has procured for 



The Funeral Sermon. 467 

the particular type of fever, under which the 
patient is sinking, the designation of ' ' Yellow Jack," 
given to it by the British blue-jackets, a class 
of persons who have suffered fearfully from its 
ravages. 

From the first moment of its approach, the suf- 
ferer has declared that it is a sickness unto death, 
and resigned himself with patient faith to the 
issue, which he seems clearly to have seen before 
him. All that willing hands and loving hearts can 
do to relieve his sufferings, and soothe the anguish 
of the young wife who hangs over his bed in deep 
distress, is done ; but no favorable symptom is de- 
veloped. Unchecked, the dread disease goes on, 
drying up the springs of life, until it becomes 
too manifest to all around that the presentiment, 
so strongly felt and uttered, is about to be ful- 
filled. It has not been the offspring of fear, 
for there is none of the fear which hath torment ; 
no fear of dying marks that death-bed. It is not 
fear, but heaven-born joy and hope that spreads 
brightness over that pallid, sunken counte- 
nance. There is no fear, but the gladness of a 
triumphant faith in the words that issue from 
those parched and fevered lips, while the hands 
are lifted up toward heaven : " I know that my 
Redeemer liveth ; and I know and feel that He 
hath loved me and given himself for me." Nor 
is there any sign of fear in the tender, affection- 
ate tones in which he commends the loved wife 
of his youth, the wife of a few months only, and 

the unborn pledge of their wedded love, to the 
30 



468 Romance Without Fiction. 

ever-gracious One who has said, " A father of the 
fatherless, and a judge of the widows is God in his 
holy habitation." He has felt from the beginning 
that he came there to die ; but, like the great 
apostle, he feels, " For me to live is Christ, and 
to die is gain." And now that the dread king 
of terrors is approaching, in fearless faith and 
peaceful, joyous hope he rests his soul upon the 
Rock of Ages, and awaits the moment when 
his ransomed spirit, purified from all defilement, 
shall pass through death triumphant home to 
God. 

More and more the heart of the young wife 
sinks in sorrow as the last fatal symptoms be- 
come unmistakably apparent, and the dreadful 
black vomit heralds the approach of death, 
until the sixth day, when the last faint accents, 
" Jesus my life ! Jesus is precious ! " pass the 
fever -blistered lips, leaving them closely sealed 
in death, and the glorified spirit enters the joy of 
its Lord. 

Only one short week has passed since the 
young missionary stood before that congregation 
for the first and last time, and gave utterance 
to the startling announcement that he came 
among them to die. And lo ! the presentiment 
has been fulfilled! On the Sabbath evening, 
amid the tears of weeping hundreds, the grave 
opens to receive the fever victim. Two fresh 
mounds instead of one mark the missionaries* 
burial-place in the humble cemetery ; and the 
canvas tent, and the congregation that assemble 



The Funeral Sermon. 469 

there, are again without a pastor. And two 
young widows, with suddenly blighted hopes, are 
left to feel how transitory and uncertain are even 
the purest and holiest joys associated with this 
dark vale of tears. 

" There all the ship's company meet, 

Who sail'd with the Saviour beneath ; 
With shouting each other they greet, 

And triumph o'er sorrow and death. 
The voyage of life's at an end ; 

The mortal affliction is past ; 
The age that in heaven they spend, 

For ever and ever shall last." 



47° Romance Without Fiction. 



XXIV. 

A Mother's Dream. 

A mother's love, how sweet the name 1 

What is a mother's love ? 
A noble, pure, and tender flame, 

Enkindled from above 
To bless a heart of earthly mold ; 
The warmest love that can grow cold ; 

This is a mother's love.— Montgomeb*. 

l TRANGE and inexplicable are the fancies 
that frequently occupy the mind when all 
the outward senses are locked up in sleep ! 
Who can tell whence they come, or how they are 
caused ? It would be idle and foolish to attach 
undue importance to all the vain imaginations 
which crowd our sleeping hours. But it may not 
be denied, with the Bible in our hands, that God 
has sometimes seen it good to communicate with 
his creatures through the medium of dreams and 
visions of the night. (Job xxxiii.) 

Apart from the volume of inspiration many well- 
authenticated facts show that the wise and right- 
eous Governor of the universe still takes up the 
dreams of men into the arrangement of his prov- 
idence, and uses them for the accomplishment of 
his own purposes. Other dreams, in which it 
would be difficult to discover any thing of providen- 
tial design, become remarkable from the manner 



A Mother's Dream. 471 

in which they are fulfilled. It is not, however, 
my purpose to write a dissertation on dreams, but 
merely to refer to one which at the time produced 
a powerful impression, and was, after the lapse of 
many years, remarkably verified. 

On my first missionary voyage to the isles of the 
west, upward of forty years ago, I was associated 
with C. W., a young man of about the same age 
as myself, who had been recommended and ac- 
cepted for the mission work from one of the 
Methodist districts in the west of England. He 
was of a mild, quiet disposition, and retiring in his 
habits. He had seen but little of the world, even 
less than most young men of his age, being re- 
strained by a fond, doting mother, to whom he was 
warmly attached, from every thing like free inter- 
course with other boys, and from sharing their 
sports and recreations. Carefully trained in the 
habit of attending upon the ordinances of religion 
in her own company, it was the great joy of the 
mother's life to see the boy she loved so devotedly 
yield himself up to the gracious influences and 
drawings of the Divine Spirit, and openly conse- 
crate his youthful affections and his life to his 
Saviour. The love of Christ had smoothed and 
brightened her own lowly path for many years, 
through the cares and anxieties of domestic trial 
and the sorrow and loneliness of early widowhood. 
Deeply she felt her obligations to the Lord, and 
that no sacrifice she could make for him could be 
too great. But it became the great sorrow of her 
life when, after a severe and protracted struggle 



472 Romance Without Fiction. 

between maternal love and duty to Christ and his 
cause, she was called upon to give up the cherished 
object of her heart's warmest affection, to go 
wherever the Head of the Church might assign to 
him a sphere of labor in the mission field, and 
bid him adieu, to behold his face no more on 
earth. She knew something of the deep anguish 
the venerable patriarch experienced when the 
strange command from heaven fell upon his ear : 
" Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom 
thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah ; 
and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one 
of the mountains which I will tell thee of." It 
was not more distressing to Abraham thus to part 
with his Isaac, than it was to the widowed mother 
to lay her only child upon the missionary altar. 

The bitter heart-trial had been endured. The 
last sad farewell had been pronounced with many 
tears, and the son of the widow was on his way to 
the isles of the west. Thither he was going, not 
in the pursuit of wealth, but to assist in filling up 
vacancies which the harassings of unrelenting 
persecutors, or the ravages of yellow fever, had 
created arnong the missionary laborers, who were 
there preaching the ever-blessed Gospel to the 
colored free population and the downtrodden 
slaves. 

In the midst of the wide Atlantic the progress 
of the ship is arrested by protracted calms. In 
vain the broad sails are spread to catch the breeze ; 
there is not a breath of air. An almost vertical 
sun pours down his fervent rays upon the vessel, 



A Mother s Dream. 473 

melting the pitch that fills up the seams of her 
decks. Not a ripple is seen upon the water, which 
glistens smooth and shining like molten silver, and 
stretching to the distant horizon all around. The 
vessel rises and falls with a never-ending swell ; 
the canvas flaps to and fro with weary, monotonous 
sound, and it seems as if all nature had gone to 
sleep. A week passes away, and another week 
begins and ends, and there we lie, rolling and rock- 
ing in the same spot. The ships that we have 
scanned through our glasses many miles distant, 
day after day, still maintain the same relative 
position, immovable like ourselves, for lack of the 
favoring breeze to help them on their course. 
We have watched the gambols of shoals of por- 
poises around the ship. We have seen the whales 
sporting in the distance ; sometimes rolling their 
huge carcases half way out of the water. Day 
after day our captain, dexterous in the use of the 
groins, has stood in the chains and made war upon 
the vast quantities of " bonito " that sported about 
the vessel, hoisting one large fish after another to 
the deck, until an abundant supply has been ob- 
tained for the ship's use for many days. The 
hungry shark has prowled around us, until, yield- 
ing at length to the temptation, he has greedily 
swallowed the large piece of pork thrown over- 
board to entrap him. But with it he has swallowed 
the treacherous hook, pointed and barbed, which, 
taking firm hold of his vitals, has enabled us to 
haul him on deck and finish him off there, taking 
care to keep from the powerful lashings of his 



474 Romance Without Fiction. 

broad tail in the death agony. The Portuguese 
man-of-war, floating upon the surface of the calm 
sea, has been drawn up in a bucket, and subjected 
to minute inspection. Several mornings the sea 
has been found for miles covered in all directions 
with turtle, calmly sleeping upon the untroubled 
ocean. The ship's boats have been got out, and, 
with muffled oars, the sleepers have been noise- 
lessly approached, struck with the barbed groins, 
and hoisted into the boats. In many cases, how- 
ever, they took alarm, and went down for shelter 
in the unfathomable deep before we could come 
near to capture them. But the spoils of our 
turtle-hunting have been sufficient (between 
thirty and forty having been secured) to furnish 
an ample supply of turtle steaks and turtle soup, 
to vary and enrich our ample daily fare until the 
ship shall reach the end of her voyage. 

Still the calm continues. There is among the 
passengers, amounting to twenty-nine in all, a 
youthful medico, going to seek practice in Jamaica. 
There is also a nephew of Sir Andrew A., famous 
for his efforts in Parliament concerning the Sab- 
bath, and several other young men bound to the 
west to try chances w r ith the yellow-fever and a 
planter's life. Yielding to the solicitations of his 
more youthful passengers, the good-natured cap- 
tain suffers those who are competent to go over- 
board, and have a swim about the bows of the ship ; 
lowering a boat, and suspending ropes over the 
sides and the bowsprit to insure the safety of the 
adventurers. To sport in the calm, placid sea for 



A Mother's Dream. 475 

an hour affords enjoyment to the swimmers for 
several days, until a narrow escape from drowning 
on the part of the young medical gentleman in- 
duces the captain to put a veto upon this kind of 
amusement. Being but an indifferent swimmer, 
he had failed, when nearly exhausted, to catch 
hold of the rope hanging from the end of the bow- 
sprit, when a young Baptist missionary, who, as 
might be expected, was more at home in the water 
than his companions, swam to the rescue, and 
saved him as he was sinking. 

In these aquatic exercises the young missionary, 
C. W., took no part. When urged to do so he 
pleaded that he had never learned to swim. He 
had never in his life ventured into the water as 
other youths were accustomed to do, refraining 
from this in deference to his mother's wishes. 
Before the birth of her son she had a dream con- 
cerning him, in which he came to his death by 
drowning. This dream had so wrought upon her 
that, all through his childhood and youth, she had 
laid her commands upon him to abstain from tak- 
ing part in any of those amusements of boyhood, 
bathing, skating, etc., by which the fulfillment of 
her dream might possibly be brought about. In 
obedience to the wishes of his much-loved moth- 
er, he had never in his life ventured into or upon 
the water until the present voyage. He therefore 
contented himself with looking from the deck 
upon his fellow-voyagers as they sported in the 
calm deep waters, and swam to and fro about the 
bows of the vessels. 



476 Romance Without Fiction. 

When seven weeks have sped, the Blue Mount- 
ains of Jamaica are seen lifting their summits to 
the clouds. The strong trade-wind fills the sails 
and urges on the ship, till, before the mid-day on 
a July Sabbath, Port Royal Point is rounded, and 
the loud rattle of the chain-cable, as the anchor 
descends, proclaims that the wearisome voyage is 
at an end. 

The three missionaries enter upon their work. 
The time of year is not, however, the most favor- 
able for doing so ; and, before two weeks have 
elapsed, one of them, (the Baptist,) cut down by 
yellow fever, sleeps in the dust. C. W., like my- 
self, has recovered from a similar attack to that 
which has borne our fellow-traveler to the grave ; 
but the fell disease has, for a season, greatly pros- 
trated all our energies. For three years and more 
my fellow-voyager has labored successfully in his 
hallowed vocation. The period of his probation is 
drawing to a close, and he is now looking, on the 
arrival of every mail, for the official letter that is 
to sanction his return to England for the purpose 
of taking to himself as partner for life the being 
dearer to him than all others upon earth, with 
whom he had exchanged pledges of betrothal 
before he gave himself to missionary work. Re- 
moved from the busy city, he, with another, a 
youthful colleague, occupies a station in the coun- 
try near the banks of the Rio Minto, commonly 
called Dry River. This name is given to it because 
during the dry season its waters are nearly, or al- 
together, dried up ; the broad, deep channel, 



A Mother s Dream. 477 

overspread with vast masses of rock, bearing 
witness to the velocity and power of the torrent 
which fills it during the rainy seasons of the 
tropics. 

The two young missionaries share the same 
humble dwelling, as they divide between them the 
pastoral charge, with its large responsibilities, 
which frequent deaths in the missionary ranks 
have caused, somewhat prematurely, to devolve 
upon them. The younger of the two, who has 
only recently entered upon his work, is a young 
man of lively temperament, gay and sanguine ; 
and he has succeeded in laughing and rallying his 
graver brother out of what he calls his " supersti- 
tious fear of the water." Both of them have, for 
some weeks past, been in the habit of repairing, on 
Saturday afternoon, to the neighboring river for 
the refreshment of a bath ; the water at the time 
running very low, and the stream being so small 
and shallow that an infant might bathe in it almost 
anywhere with perfect safety. 

Frequent indulgence in this refreshing exercise 
has completely dispelled the apprehensions which, 
from his childhood, had occupied the mind of 
C. W., and he finds great enjoyment in his weekly 
ablution: This has gone on for several months, 
when the younger of the two ministers is absent 
on the Saturday afternoon, having gone to supply 
the pulpit on the Sabbath in a distant Circuit. 
C. W. feels no hesitation in going alone to the river 
course to take his usual bath; and immediately 
after dinner, having informed the domestic whither 



478 Romance Without Fiction. 

he was going, that he might be sent for if his pres- 
ence at home were required, he repairs to the 
customary spot. 

The afternoon passes away, and the young mis- 
sionary does not return. The evening has sped, 
and nine o'clock has struck, and the preparations 
for tea remain as they had been placed several 
hours before. Still the absent one. has not made 
his appearance. The servant, who has been im- 
patiently awaiting the arrival of her master, 
becomes alarmed, and goes to hold a consultation 
with the inhabitants of several neighboring cot- 
tages. They at once share the alarm, for it is 
quite at variance with the minister's habits to be 
absent from home at so late an hour. It is sug- 
gested that he may have called upon one of the 
neighbors on his return from the river. But when 
ten o'clock comes and he fails to appear, several 
of them resolve to set out in search of him. It is 
bright moonlight, but they think it proper to 
carry lanterns with them. By this time the alarm 
has spread extensively among the scattered 
villagers, and a numerous party set out for the 
purpose of making inquiry at the several houses 
on the way, and inspecting the river course. No 
satisfactory tidings can be gained anywhere on the 
way. At length they reach the river, where they 
divide themselves into two parties, one to prose- 
cute the search up and the other down the stream. 
Before they are out of hearing, a loud shout from 
the party who have followed the downward course 
of the stream announces that some discovery has 



A Mother's Dream. 479 

been made. Upon one of the large boulders in 
the river bed, some object, distinctly visible in the 
moonlight, has met their view. Arriving at the 
spot, they find this to be the clothes of the missing 
one ; leaving no doubt that some accident or evil 
has befallen him. The idea of drowning does not 
occur to % them; for it does not seem possible that 
any person could meet such a fate in the little in- 
significant stream that runs murmuring beside 
them, dwindled by the prevailing drought to the 
merest rivulet. 

A second shout from one of the party who has 
advanced a few yards beyond his fellows soon 
announces a further discovery. Rushing to the 
spot, they discover the object of their search lying 
in a small pool, in which the water is barely deep 
enough to cover the body. Life is quite extinct, 
for the body has been lying with the head under 
water for some hours, and the youthful servant of 
God has, unexpectedly to himself and all around 
him, been called away to his eternal rest. His 
premature death under such circumstances, and 
in such a place, could be accounted for only on 
the supposition that an apoplectic seizure had sud- 
denly paralyzed his energies as he was bathing in 
the little pool — perhaps too early after partaking 
of a hearty meal. Falling powerless in the water, 
with his head just submerged in the shallow 
stream, he had been suffocated, no help being at 
hand. Great is the sorrow of the simple-hearted 
people to whom he ministered the word of life 
when they find themselves thus suddenly bereaved 



480 Romance Without Fiction. 

of the young pastor, who had greatly endeared 
himself to them by his faithful counsels and lov- 
ing, gentle manners. This sorrow is greatly ag- 
gravated when in one short week the intelligence 
comes to them that the colleague of the deceased, 
their other younger pastor, has followed his friend 
and brother to the spirit-land. In the distant cir- 
cuit whither he had gone to preach, the yellow 
fever had seized upon him after leaving the pulpit 
on the Sabbath evening. The best medical aid 
had been summoned ; but in three short days, in 
the prime of vigorous, youthful manhood, this 
promising servant of the Lord closed his eyes on 
earthly scenes and passed within the vail. Thus 
are the sorrowing people doubly bereaved, and 
most strangely, yet truly, after the lapse of nearly 
thirty years, the mother's dream has been fulfilled. 



The Old Sanctuary. 481 



XXV. 

The Old Sanctuary. 

The man of God 
Took up the consecrated bread, and brake, 
And gave the happy saint, " Take this, 11 he said, 
"In dear remembrance of thy dying Lord, 
His body given for thee, and in thy heart 
Feed thou on him with thankfulness." Then took 
The cup. "Drink this," he said, "and may the blood 
Which once for thee was shed, preserve thy soul 
And body to eternal life." To each 
Some word of comfort spake he, as to each 
He gave the sacred symbols. Unto all 
That sanctuary seemed the very gate of heaven. 

Mrs. 0. L. Eice. 

J HE Sabbath dawns, but not with the usual 
brightness of the tropics. It is one of those 
mornings, frequent enough in the changea- 
ble climates of northern countries, but not often 
seen among the sunny isles of the Caribbean Sea. 
The sky wears a leaden hue, and the whole firma- 
ment is obscured with thick clouds. The range 
of the Blue Mountains, usually so bright and 
beautiful in the rays of the morning sun, is not to 
be seen. A thick, drizzling rain is falling, the at- 
mosphere is chilly, and all is dark and gloomy. 
Every street leading toward the harbor has be- 
come a river course, through which rolls a deep, 
rapid stream of muddy water, showing that the 
rain is falling heavily in the lofty mountains which 



482 Romance Without Fiction. 

form the background of the picture when the city 
of Kingston is surveyed from the harbor, or from 
the sea outside of " the palisades" by which the 
harbor is inclosed. 

The few persons to be seen moving about are 
closely wrapped in the thickest and warmest cloth- 
ing they possess, for it is one of those mornings 
which seem to paralyze the energies of the dark- 
skinned Creoles, and render them almost incapable 
of any exertion. It is strange to see so many 
persons in the streets in such stormy weather ; 
but they are hastening to the class-meeting, which 
is always held on Sunday morning at six o'clock. 
Some hundreds are thus accustomed to assemble 
with their leaders, that they may speak to one an- 
other concerning their experience in the things of 
God, and receive the counsel their various states 
demand to direct and cheer them in their pilgrim- 
age to the skies. 

There would not be so many, but that it is the 
last Sabbath morning on which they are to be 
privileged with the opportunity of meeting to- 
gether in that old sanctuary toward which their 
footsteps are tending. This has been to not a 
few of them their birthplace for eternal life. 
Thither they have for years gone up in company 
to take sweet counsel, and there they have wor- 
shiped God and listened to the words of eternal 
life. The dense gloom of the morning is in sym- 
pathy with the feelings of hundreds in that city, 
for the thought to them is very mournful that the 
dear old house, so sacred to their thoughts, is soon 



The Old Sanctuary. 483 

to be taken down. To many it is the dearest spot 
on earth, around which cluster the most thrilling 
and cherished memories of their lives. After this 
day has passed they will worship within those hal- 
lowed walls no more. Tears glisten in the eyes 
of many who, through the chilling rain, are trudg- 
ing to the much-loved spot. 

Coke Chapel stands on the east side of a large 
square which forms the center of the city of King- 
ston. The square is several hundred yards in ex- 
tent either way, and is adorned with some of the 
finest buildings that enrich the city. Were it 
under better management it might be made both 
pleasant and beneficial to the inhabitants. In a 
prominent position, at the corner of one of the 
principal streets, stands the building which bears 
the name of the venerated founder of the Wesleyan 
missions in the West Indies — Dr. Coke. It is, 
however, more frequently designated by the peo- 
ple " the Parade Chapel," the fine square upon 
which it looks being used as the parade-ground 
for the city militia. The old chapel is not very 
imposing in its appearance, for it is marked by no 
ecclesiastical peculiarity to distinguish it as a place 
devoted to religious worship. It was originally the 
mansion of a wealthy citizen, but early after the 
commencement of the mission in Jamaica the good 
doctor, full of zeal for Christ and for souls, ob- 
tained possession of it by purchase, not sparing to 
give largely of his own property, that this house 
might be consecrated to God and the proclama- 
tion of his saving truth. It was the first Methodist 

31 



484 Romance Without Fiction. 

sanctuary devoted to God in this land, where 
the Head of the Church had a large harvest of 
precious souls to be gathered into his garner. 
The house was spacious and lofty, the lower story 
affording accommodation for the mission families, 
while the upper part was converted into a com- 
modious chapel. 

For about half a century this house has been in 
use as a Christian sanctuary, when our story com- 
mences, and many have been born to glory here. 
Beneath the roof several missionary servants of 
Christ have triumphantly finished thejr useful 
course and passed within the vail. More*than 
one has been dragged away from hence to a gloomy 
prison cell, charged with the crime of having 
taught poor slaves the truth as it is in Jesus, and 
endeavoring to lighten the hardship of their lot 
by inspiring them with the bright hopes and con- 
solations of the Gospel. For seven long years 
the sanctuary was -closed by the intolerance of 
the municipal authorities, who vainly sought to 
extinguish, in this way, the spreading light of 
Divine truth, and put a stop to the work of God. 
By patient endurance and perseverance, and a 
firm reliance upon their Master's promises, the 
missionaries triumphed ; the soul-saving work 
went on, and the enemies of the truth were 
baffled. 

Now the time has come when the old sanctuary 
may no longer be used. Some of the timbers have 
yielded to the influence of time, and exhibit symp- 
toms of decay ; and, in spite of all the care that 



The Old Sanctuary. 485 

has been exercised, those destructive insects, the 
wood ants, which eat out the substance of the 
heaviest timbers, leaving only a thin outward shell 
to deceive the eye, have done their work upon the 
building, and it is considered unsafe that crowds 
of people should continue to assemble in a tene- 
ment so frail. Besides this, extended accommo- 
dations is required, for the work of the Lord has 
greatly prospered. Thousands have been made 
wise unto salvation on that spot. A large and 
handsome chapel has been erected in another part 
of the city, and a numerous congregation and so- 
ciety have been drafted off from this, the parent 
Church ; yet the old house will scarcely contain 
two thirds of the communicants who are attached 
to it. The necessity is urgent ; but multitudes 
mourn over the approaching demolition of 
their beloved house as if it were a grievous 
calamity. A better and more commodious edifice 
may be substituted for it, but no building on earth 
can ever be so dear to them. 

As the hour for the forenoon service draws near 
the rain ceases, and the place is crowded in every 
part. Numbers have traveled all night over the 
mountains and through the rain, twenty, thirty, 
and some nearly forty miles, fording the mountain 
torrents and braving the inclemency of the weather, 
that they may be present at the closing services 
of that dear old chapel and offer their prayer for 
the last time beneath that hallowed roof. Many 
hearts go out toward God in earnest desire ; for 
though forms of prayer are used, they are not 



486 Romance Without Fiction. 

uttered by mere formal worshipers. It is not prayer 
without desire, like an altar without a sacrifice, or 
the sacrifice without the fire from heaven to con- 
sume it, that is offered there. It is the language 
of devotion ; the breathing out of the soul to 
God. 

The preliminary part of the services over, then 
comes the sermon ; and many a sob breaks the 
silence of that devotional hour, and streams of 
tears roll down many cheeks, while the preacher 
dwells upon those words, so expressive of the 
heart-feeling of all around him : " Lord, I have 
loved the habitation of thy house, and the place 
where thine honor dwelleth." Psalm xxvi, 8. 
There are hundreds there who feel as Jacob felt at 
Bethel when Jehovah manifested himself in such 
wondrous grace and condescension : " This is 
none other but the house of God, and this is the 
gate of heaven." 

The morning exercise is ended, and some of 
the congregation depart to their homes. But a 
large number remain ; for after a brief interval the 
last love-feast is to be held under that roof, occu- 
pying several hours of the afternoon. At the ap- 
pointed time the same missionary who conducted 
the forenoon service again ascends the pulpit. 
Not only is every available foot of space occupied, 
but hundreds are unable to gain admission ; for 
numbers who have been drafted off to form other 
Churches are there. The spot is dear to them all, 
and the occasion is one in which they are pro- 
foundly interested. Sweet and powerful are the 



The Old Sanctuary. 487 

strains in which that large congregation of Church- 
members encourage each other to 

" Antedate the joys above, 
Celebrate the feast of love." 

The presiding minister offers the preliminary 
prayer; then bread and water are passed round, 
and all eat and drink together as members of the 
same family, the same household of faith, and 
the children of the same heavenly Father. 
Born of God, passed from death unto life, they are 
looking forward with hope and joy to the period 
when, within the vail, they shall pluck the am- 
brosial fruits and drink the vivifying streams of 
that upper Paradise, and be happy together with 
him forever and ever. 

Thanksgiving made for the earthly food and 
comfort, and the collection taken for the poor of 
the Church, some of them speak their experience 
of the things of God, in accordance with ancient 
practice and those scriptural precepts which ad- 
monish Christian believers to exhort one another, 
and make confession with their lips unto salvation, 
declaring to those who fear God what he hath 
done for their souls. It might cause the skeptic 
to doubt the truth of his own carnal reasonings, it 
might shame the arrogance and pride of the anthro- 
pological traducer of man's noble and immortal 
nature, to witness the moral elevation which re- 
ligion has imparted to many in that assembly, and 
listen to their statements. Rising sometimes into 
strains of lofty and powerful eloquence, these sable 



488 Romance Without Fiction. 

men and women tell of what God and religion have 
done for them. Yet these are represented by nar- 
row-souled bigots of fairer complexion, too blind 
to see the broad line of demarcation which sepa- 
rates man in all his varieties from the brute, as 
nearly allied to the ape and the gorilla. Brought 
up out of the lowest condition of life by God's 
blessing upon missionary labor, they shine gems 
of immortality, flashing with the light of intellect 
and glowing with Christian graces, possessing, and 
manifesting that lofty capacity, which of all this 
lower creation belongs to man alone, the power 
to know, and love, and enjoy God. 

The presiding minister first relates God's gra- 
cious dealings with himself. When a thoughtless 
youth, he was induced to attend a Sabbath even- 
ing service in a Methodist place of worship in one 
of the midland counties of England. The word 
impressed his conscience and his heart, and he 
was led to seek and find mercy through faith in 
Christ. He then felt constrained to devote the 
residue of his life to the service of the Lord. 
God had providentially opened his way into the 
mission work, and in times of persecution inter- 
posed to save him from the violence of wicked 
and unreasonable men. 

11 Oft from the margin of the grave 
The Lord had lifted up his head ; 

Present he found Him near to save, 
The fever own'd His touch and fled." 

And now the supreme desire of his heart is to 
spend and to be spent for God, faithful to the 



The Old Sanctuary, 489 

great work committed to him, so that he may fin- 
ish his course with joy, and the ministry which he 
has received of the Lord Jesus. 

When he finishes many rise to speak ; but the 
preference is accorded to an old man, for all sit 
down at once when they see that Father Harris is 
upon his feet. He is a venerable man. More 
than eighty years have bleached that snow-white 
head, and he displays a fine African countenance, 
bearing traces of considerable intelligence. In a 
voice clear and distinct, though slightly tremulous, 
he tells that he was born in North America, and 
took part in the revolutionary struggle on the los- 
ing side. He then came to Jamaica, preferring to 
live under the British flag. He had heard about 
Jesus, and became the subject of religious feelings 
among the colored Baptists in America ; but it 
was not until Dr. Coke visited Jamaica in 1789, 
and there proclaimed the truth, that he clearly 
apprehended the way of salvation by faith in Christ 
Jesus. He came to the cross as a guilty sinner, 
and obtained pardon and the soul-renewing power 
by which he was made a child of God, the Holy 
Spirit bearing witness with his spirit that he had 
passed from death unto life. " I was happy then," 
says the old saint, " and, though it is fifty years 
ago, I have been happy ever since ; and I am 
happy in Christ now, dear friends, and I feel that 
I shall soon be happy with him forever in that 
better land 

" Where all the ship's company meet, 
Who sailed with the Saviour beneath." 



49° Romance Without Fiction. 

He tells how gladly he stepped forward when 
Dr. Coke invited those to do so who were desir- 
ous of giving themselves up to God, and he was 
the second of eight persons then enrolled who 
formed the first Methodist Society in the land." 
" It was a little Church, minister," he says, lifting 
his eyes to the pulpit, " and formed in troublous 
times ; but " — looking round upon the vast num- 
ber of faces that were turned toward him, and 
waving his hand — " bless the Lord ! the little one 
has become thousands, and God will make it 
greater yet." He then resumed his seat. 

There is a pause, and all eyes are directed to- 
ward an elderly woman seated near the center of 
the chapel. There are hundreds who would like 
to speak, but all seem instinctively to feel that 
precedence should be given to Mother Wilkinson, 
who, with Father Harris, forms the only remnant 
of the original Methodist Society in Jamaica estab- 
lished by Dr. Coke on his first visit to the colony. 

" Mother Wilkinson, the congregation waits for 
you to speak." She rises in response to this call; 
a venerable, happy-looking old woman,, a little 
tremulous with age, but dressed with scrupulous 
neatness. A broad-brimmed straw hat, with a 
narrow black ribbon around it, surmounts the 
handkerchief with which, according to the pre- 
vailing custom of her class, her head is adorned, 
folded to the resemblance of a turban. She is a 
mulatto, sharing equally the African and European 
blood. . But the swarthy countenance, though 
bearing marks of advanced age, is beautiful with 



The Old Sanctuary. 491 

the peace of God radiant in every feature. Her 
tale is simple but heart-thrilling, and tears drop 
from many eyes as she relates her history of the 
past. She had heard of God as the Maker of the 
heavens and the earth, and greatly she wondered 
where and what he was, and how she could get to 
know more about him. None had taught her, 
none cared to teach her, the difference between 
right and wrong, and what was good and what 
evil. She had not been taught to read, and her 
mind was a blank. But as she folded her children 
to her bosom, she often felt her heart strangely 
moved by earnest desires to know something 
about God. When Dr. Coke came she was told 
that a strange gentleman was going to talk to the 
people about religion, and she took one child by 
the hand and another at her breast, and went and 
listened to that first sermon. She did not under- 
stand much that was said, for she was very igno- 
rant ; but her heart melted, and her eyes shed 
abundant tears. She felt that she was a miserable 
sinner, and she went home and prayed to God, as 
the minister had directed them to do. The next 
evening she went again, and, as the minister was 
speaking about Christ loving sinners and dying to 
save them, she felt that God had pardoned her, 
and that her soul was unspeakably happy, as it 
never had been before. When the minister spoke 
of forming a Society, and invited those who were 
determined to live to God and flee from the 
wrath to come, she went forward and gave in 
her name. For more than fifty years the Lord 



49 2 Romance Without Fiction. 

bad kept her by bis grace, and she was looking 
soon to join the friends who had gone before and 
arrived safe at home. Referring to the persecu- 
tions of past years, she speaks of u the seven years' 
famine of the word," as she expresses it, when the 
city magistrates shut up the chapel and sent the 
ministers to prison, setting the constables to watch 
that there should be no singing and prayer in any 
of the houses of those who belonged to the Soci- 
ety. She then goes on to describe with exquisite 
pathos how, in those dark days, many a little social 
gathering of praying souls took place in inner 
rooms and upper chambers. Class-meetings were 
held after dark in the church-yard, where the peo- 
ple were afraid to go at night, except those who 
went to pray among the tombs, and in many other 
strange places. For seven years she met the class 
of which she had been made leader in the open 
street. At five o'clock in the morning she walked 
through an appointed street — changed from week 
to week — and there, at short distances apart, she 
would find her members, sometimes two together, 
sometimes singly, so as not to attract malignant 
observation. There she would hold Christian 
converse with them, and give them such counsel 
and encouragement as they required. When the 
chapel was re~opened at the end of seven years, 
her class had grown, in spite of opposition, to 
three times its former number, and the members 
of Society had increased, so that the whole of 
them could not get into the chapel when a Society 
meeting was held. 



The Old Sanctuary. 493 

The next that rises is a young man of fair com- 
plexion, not to be distinguished from a white man, 
except by an eye practised in observing the sev- 
eral gradations and distinctions of color. He is 
of the class ranking next to those who are " white 
by law," having only a sixteenth portion of African 
blood in his veins. His dress, appearance, and 
manners are those which pertain to polished soci- 
ety. He is a member of the Colonial Legislature, 
well educated, and bearing the reputation of being 
one of the most finished gentlemen in the land, 
and of a most generous and obliging disposition. 
He speaks of a godly mother, now slumbering in 
the dust, who was one of the excellent of the earth, 
and, until she was removed to heaven in the prime 
of life, a pattern of all Christian excellence. He 
tells how she taught him to bow the knee in 
prayer, and administered those loving counsels 
which tended to check the frivolities of thought- 
less youth ; and how she led him habitually to the 
house of prayer, where the word of life reached 
his conscience and his heart, and was made to 
him the wisdom of God and the power of God to 
salvation. He speaks in a shrill but not unpleas- 
ant tone, and with great freedom and power, in 
well-chosen words, which sufficiently explain why 
he is so much of a favorite as a local preacher. 
Hundreds of hearts are touched, and there are 
suppressed sobs over that whole congregation as 
he speaks of the influence exerted upon him by 
the counsels and prayers of that loving mother. 
Many there knew her well, and venerated her for 



494 Romance Without Fiction. 

the virtues that adorned her character, and as one 
of the polished pillars of the Church. 

When this speaker has resumed his seat, one 
rises who has been the chosen bosom friend of 
that godly mother, and who rejoices with exceed- 
ing joy that the fond wishes of her heart concern- 
ing her much-loved son are fulfilled. The speaker 
is of queenly presence, now past the prime and 
bloom of youthful womanhood, but still retaining 
a large portion of the grace and beauty by which 
she was distinguished when, with her clear olive 
complexion, gazelle-like eye, and faultless figure, 
she outshone the fairest beauties of the land. She 
is in every sense a noble woman, enriched and 
adorned with all Christian virtues in an eminent 
degree. Like her Master, to whom she has fully 
devoted herself, she goes about doing good, con- 
secrating her time and energies to his service. 
Hundreds have, through her agency, been led into 
the path of eternal life. Her power in prayer is 
great, and on such occasions as the present she 
speaks with a lofty and commanding eloquence 
that rivets the attention of the hearers. She tells 
how her sympathies were awakened toward the 
Methodists when the missionaries were imprisoned 
and the chapel was closed. She knew of many 
slave members of the Society who were subjected 
to cruel treatment by their owners because they 
persisted in going, whenever they could seize the 
opportunity, to join in the services of the Method- . 
ists. This led her to think there must be more 
in the religion of the persecuted people than she 



The Old Sanctuary. 495 

had supposed, and in the midst of her gay life 
she was drawn powerfully toward them. Invited 
by one of the class-leaders, she attended several 
of the meetings held in secret, and her heart 
bowed down under a sense of her guiltiness and 
danger as a sinner before God. She at once re- 
solved to abandon the gayeties and frivolities in 
which she was wasting her life, and cast in her lot 
with the oppressed, choosing, like Moses, to suffer 
affliction with the people of God rather than to 
enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season. She had 
opposition and much ridicule and reproach to en- 
counter ; but she regarded none of these things, 
for her soul was bowed down under the painful 
sense of the wrath of God abiding on her ; and she 
could care for nothing else, until the Lord took 
compassion upon her, and set her soul at liberty 
by his victorious love. Then she was too happy 
to care what any around her might think or say 
about her going mad for religion. To all who re- 
proach and cast ridicule and scorn upon her she 
would say, u Come thou with us, and we will do 
thee good.' Religion has put. her in posses- 
sion of a happiness- far above any of the pleas- 
ures and enjoyments of the world in which she 
reveled for years. She only fancied that she 
was happy then, and only for a few moments 
at a time, when mingling in the dance and 
mixed up with the gay and thoughtless lovers of 
pleasure like herself, to be cast down and sor- 
rowful when it was over. But now she is happy 
day and night. 



496 Romance Without Fiction. 

1 My Redeemer to know, 
To feel his blood flow, 
This is life everlasting — ' 'tis heaven below.' " 

She rejoiced with great joy when " the seven 
years' night " ended, and she could go up to the 
Lord's house, Sabbath after Sabbath, and join in 
the worship of the Lord. This has now become 
dearer to her, and the source of deeper joy, than 
the resorts of pleasure ever were. To hear the 
life-giving word, which had made her wise unto 
salvation, and by which her soul was nourished and 
strengthened unto life eternal, this was happiness 
indeed ! She has lived to see mother, sisters, and 
children brought into the Church, and made par- 
takers of the same glorious hopes. She cannot 
but mourn over the thought that the hallowed 
place, where many a blessed foretaste of heaven 
has been realized, will shortly be no more ; but 
she rejoices in the prospect of the larger house 
being erected which has so long been greatly 
needed. She rejoices still more in the hope, which 
seems to make her soul expand within her, of the 
incorruptible " building of God — the house not 
made with hands, eternal in the heavens. " 

The effect of this thrilling tale has been very pow- 
erful. It has been delivered with a simple grace 
and eloquence that stirred the holiest sympathies 
of the listeners, and all glorify the grace of God in 
her which has transformed her, the admired 
votary of fashion, into the humble follower of 
Jesus. Ministers and people respect and honor 
her as one of the most devoted and useful mem- 



The Old Sanctuary. 497 

bers of the Church, abundant in labors and ready 
for every good work. 

Next is heard the voice of another female mem- 
ber of the Church. She has risen with several 
others ; but the presiding minister pronounces her 
name, and all the others resume their seats. She 
is a pattern of neatness and simplicity in her ap- 
pearance ; one who has attained the ripeness of 
middle age, and is pre-eminently a woman of meek 
and quiet spirit. Her complexion is that of the 
quadroon, and her fine placid countenance is an 
illustration of " the beauty of holiness ; " for through 
every feature beams " the peace of God, which 
passeth all understanding. " Her tale is one of 
pathetic simplicity; and as she relates it in a 
quiet tone and with a natural eloquence, far more 
impressive than the most studied oratory, many 
hearts are moved to ascribe glory to Him who shows 
such abundant mercy to sinners. She speaks of 
the time when she was a slave ; for she was born to 
the inheritance of a British bondwoman. But it 
was her good fortune to be the property of a mis- 
tress who possessed, among many excellent and 
amiable qualities, a kindly disposition toward her 
slaves, and she, the quadroon girl, was her favorite 
attendant. It was a sore grievance to the kind- 
hearted and well-meaning mistress when her 
maid, unfortunately in her view, got among the 
Methodists, and adopted what she thought to be 
their strange and erroneous, views of religion. So 
it was, and it occurred in this way. It was the 
duty of the quadroon girl to follow her mistress to 



498 Romance Without Fiction. 

the parish church ; but on her way thither she 
had to pass the Parade chapel, and she heard the 
congregation singing. It was very sweet, and 
quite different from any singing she had ever heard 
before. She had been told a good deal about 
these Methodist people, and she thought she 
would turn in and hear a little for herself before 
going on to the church, which was near at hand ; 
and her mistress would know nothing about it. 
After the singing the minister prayed, and she felt 
wrought upon as she had never been before. Then 
came another hymn, and after that the text : " Ho, 
every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters," etc. 
Every word of the sermon that followed seemed 
to be addressed to her ; she wondered who could 
have told the minister so much about the poor 
quadroon girl. The church, her mistress, and all 
else were forgotten ; all lost sight of in the dread- 
ful conviction that she was a very great sinner, 
and in danger of being lost forever. After the 
service was finished she sat still, weeping bitterly. 
One of the good old class-leaders came and asked 
her why she wept. She answered, " O, I am a very 
wicked sinner ! " and the old leader replied, " My 
dear, that is very true, and I thank God he has 
made you to feel it, but Christ Jesus came into 
the world to save sinners, and you are one of the 
very persons he invites to come to him and be 
saved." She then invited her to the class-meeting, 
where she heard the experience of others, and re- 
ceived the aid of Christian counsel and prayer. 
But she went home burdened and heavy laden, 



The Old Sanctuary. 499 

and weeping bitterly. Her mistress was greatly- 
displeased that the Methodists had spoiled her 
favorite slave, and she wondered, as she saw her 
weeping and mourning all the week, " what those 
people could have done to Sarah." The next 
Sabbath the girl begged to be excused going to 
church, and asked permission to go to the chapel. 
The mistress resisted her entreaty for awhile ; but 
when she saw that Sarah wept more bitterly, and 
was in very great distress, she left her to take her 
own course. The sermon was, she thought, all 
addressed to her ; and she was encouraged to 
hope that, great sinner as she was, God would have 
mercy upon her. The minister explained the 
text, " Behold, what manner of love the Father 
hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called 
the sons of God." John iii, 1. She was still 
much bowed down with a sense of guilt and the 
wickedness of her own heart. But during the 
class-meeting, while the members were earnestly 
pleading with God in prayer for her, the love of 
God was shed abroad in her heart, and she was made 
exceedingly happy ; for she felt the inward wit- 
ness that she had passed from death unto life 
and become a child of God. The mistress won- 
dered still more than before, when she saw this 
great change in her slave. Instead of weeping 
and mourning, as she had done all the preceding 
week, the girl was now happy and joyous. Her 
very countenance was altered : God's peace and 
love had spread over it an expression of cheerful- 
ness it had never worn before, and the lady 

32 



500 Romance Without Fiction. 

" could not think what those Methodists had been 
doing with Sarah." But she learned the secret 
afterward. Sarah, always her favorite among her 
slaves, became dearer to her than ever ; and she 
also was deeply attached to the kind mistress who 
had treated her with so much indulgence. This 
kindness found its reward, for it was the quadroon 
slave that led her to Christ, and taught her the way 
of salvation ; it was the quadroon slave, whose 
voice she loved to hear in prayer at her own bed- 
side, and in singing the hymns that lifted her soul 
to heaven ; it was she who brought her own mis- 
sionary minister to speak to her beloved mistress 
of Jesus and heaven as she lay on the bed of 
sickness ; it was she who sympathized with the 
peace and triumph of that mistress's happy death- 
bed ; and when the rejoicing spirit passed from 
earth, she closed the eyes of the dead. When all 
was over, she found that she was no longer a slave. 
The grateful mistress had bequeathed to the quad- 
roon girl freedom from bondage, and something to 
aid her in her future life. Thus unexpectedly she 
had found that " godliness is profitable for all 
things, having promise of the life that now is, and 
of that which is to come." 

Another speaker carries back the thoughts of 
the congregation to the time when Mr. Bradnack 
was the minister. He was one who loved the 
little children. She belonged to " the rising gen- 
eration class," and under his care and instruction 
the Lord opened her heart, as he had done with 
Lydia, and sweetly drew her to himself while she 



The Old Sanctuary. 501 

was quite a girl. Though she had passed through 
great troubles, and had mourned the loss of her 
husband and all her children, God having taken 
them to himself, she hopes to find them all again. 
" Up there, my minister," she says, pointing up- 
ward with her hand ; " they are all up there. They 
were all brought to Jesus and died happy, and I 
shall find them up there, with many dear friends 
who have crossed over Jordan before me." 

The minister, who listened with tearful eyes to 
that simple tale of redeeming grace, has often 
thought, with profound interest, of the expression 
used by that unsophisticated child of Africa, " The 
Lord opened my heart as he had done with Lydia." 
Religion did indeed open her heart, for she was, 
though in humble circumstances, a liberal giver to 
every good cause. Several years later that minis- 
ter had to appeal to the liberality of the Church 
to restore a large and beautiful sanctuary which 
had been nearly destroyed by fire. When it came 
to the turn of her class — for she was a very useful 
and devoted class-leader — to be spoken to on this 
subject, the appeal was first made to her: "Well, 
Sister F., what can you afford to give to help in 
restoring the chapel ? " She very quietly placed 
on the table a bank-note for twenty-four dollars, 
(^5,) saying, " That is my mite, minister." Know- 
ing the circumstances of the donor, and surprised 
at the amount, the minister said, " Can you give 
so much without inconvenience ? You know it is 
not required to be paid all at once, but in three 
yearly installments, and perhaps that will be more 



502 Romance Without Fiction. 

convenient to you than to pay it all now." " No, 
minister, that money is the Lord's. I put it by 
for him, and he must have it. He gives me all I 
want. Besides, minister, I don't expect to live 
three years, and it would be a sad thing if I 
should die owing my Lord any part of that money 
when I am able to give it to him now." Before 
the repairs of the injured building were com- 
pleted, before the year had expired, that minister 
stood beside the open grave of that devoted 
woman. She had passed away, in glorious tri- 
r umph over death, to find the loved ones that had 
gone before to the happy spirit-land. It was with 
solemn, chastened joy that he joined the multi- 
tude assembled to do honor to the memory of a 
mother in Israel in singing 

" Give glory to Jesus, our Head, 

With all that encompass his throne ; 
A widow, a widow indeed, 

A mother in Israel is gone ! 
The winter of trouble is past, 

The storms of affliction are o'er ; 
Her struggle is ended at last, 

And sorrow and death are no more." 

When she has taken her seat other speakers 
follow, and the minister has always to select one 
from several who rise at the same time to tell what 
the Lord has done for their souls. A glorious 
testimony is borne by many happy witnesses to 
the riches of divine grace, and the enlightening, 
saving power of the Gospel of Christ. That hal- 



The Old Sanctuary. 503 

lowed spot has been the spiritual birthplace of 
nearly al of them, for it is there they heard the 
truth that has made them wise unto salvation, 
" being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of 
incorruptible, by the word of God which liveth 
and abideth forever." And many more would 
bear the same testimony if opportunity could be 
given. The time has long passed when the meet- 
ing should have been closed, but numbers rise up 
each time that a speaker sits down. When less 
than half an hour remains before the time for 
commencing the evening public service, the min- 
ister has to make the announcement, while a dozen, 
at least, are on their feet as candidates for the 
next opportunity to be heard, that the love-feast 
must now be closed. The singing of a hymn and J 
a brief prayer terminate one of the most interest- 
ing services, and certainly the most memorable 
love-feast he has ever witnessed. 

He has only a few moments to spend in the 
privacy of his study, and to partake of a slight 
refreshment, before he again presents himself in 
the pulpit to conduct the last religious service 
that is to be held within those walls. On the 
morrow the premises are to be given up to the 
contractor for the new building which is to oc- 
cupy the same site. A large concourse of people 
is gathered all around the place, in addition to the 
crowd within, for the communion service is to 
close the day, and the members of the Methodist 
Churches have gathered from many parts to be 
present on this occasion, All are anxious to share 



504 Romance Without Fiction. 

in the last administration of the Lord's Supper in 
that holy place, where they have so often realized 
the presence and blessing of the Church's living 
Head, and received the instruction which tendeth 
to life. By a private staircase underneath the 
pulpit, and communicating with the household 
apartments on the ground floor, the minister upon 
whom the services for the day have devolved again 
ascends to his place, to commence the closing serv- 
ice in that birthplace of many souls. 

Appropriate to the occasion is that beautiful 
composition of Charles Wesley's, which the 
preacher selects as the opening hymn : — 

" See how great a flame aspires, 
Kindled by a spark of grace." 

Sweet and full is the volume of sound with which 
tuneful voices give expression to its glowing and 
triumphant strains, the whole of that vast congre- 
gation making melody in their hearts unto the 
Lord, and singing with the spirit and with the 
understanding also. Prayer follows the hymn of 
praise, and the hearts of many go with the words 
of the minister as, leading them up to the Divine 
footstool, he supplicates that the blessing of the 
Church's living Head may be given to crown the 
present, and influence the future even more abun- 
dantly than it has been vouchsafed in the past. 
The thirty-seventh psalm is read, and another 
hymn of praise rises up to the Divine throne, the 
loving -homage of grateful hearts to the Giver of 
all good. 



The Old Sanctuary. 505 

When the sound has died away, and the con- 
gregation have settled down into as much quietude 
as the density of the crowd, filling every available 
spot, will permit, the text is announced — 1 Sam. 
vii, 12: " Then Samuel took a stone, and set it 
between Mizpeh and Shen, and called the name 
of it Eben-ezer, saying, Hitherto hath the Lord 
helped us." Reviewing the history of the past, 
the preacher goes back to the time when scarcely 
a ray of light pierced the thick darkness that over- 
spread these beautiful colonics of the west, and 
the thousands of the injured children of Africa 
who were shut out from the light of Divine truth 
and the hopes of life and immortality inspired by 
the Gospel. Xo man in those days cared for their 
souls, or stretched out a hand to lighten the cruel 
burden of oppression that was heaped upon them. 
He dwells upon the operations and manifestations 
of a beneficent, wise, and wonder-working Provi- 
dence in sending the missionary to their help. 
He sketches the condition of things as they ex- 
isted when the only ministers of religion in those 
lands were slaveholders and slave-oppressors, 
deeply sunk, like others around them, in deprav- 
ity and vice. 

He speaks of the time when a few miserable 
erections, dignified with the name of parish 
churches, were only opened occasionally at the 
pleasure or convenience of the depraved incum- 
bents, and were often closed for weeks and months 
together, when scarcely the name of religion was 
known among the people ; the Sabbath day was 



506 Romance Without Fiction. 

forgotten, or only remembered to be devoted to 
unrestrained riot and debauch by the planters, 
and unblushing licentiousness overspread the land. 
He goes back to the period when, in compassion 
to the miseries of hundreds of thousands of Afri- 
ca's children languishing in slavery and moral 
night under the proud flag of Britain, the Divine 
Head of the Church first put it into the heart of a 
planter and slaveholder, made wise unto salvation 
under the ministry of Mr. Wesley, to introduce 
the truth as it is in Jesus to the denizens of these 
western isles. He tells how, in answer to prayer, 
Jehovah, by a wonderful interposition of his provi- 
dence, drove Dr. Coke and a band of missionary 
laborers, by tempestuous weather, far out of their 
intended course, and brought them to the scene 
of labor he had prepared for them and designed 
them to occupy, and they, recognizing the hand 
of the Lord in bringing them by a way they knew 
not, and, contrary to all their purposes and wishes, 
to a field of toil they had never thought of, entered 
zealously upon the work which invited them, and 
proceeded from one colony to another, lifting up 
the banner of the cross, and planting Christian 
Churches, until in due time they reached " the 
land of springs," and proclaimed the Gospel 
there. 

Listening ears and eager hearts take in the story 
as the preacher speaks of Dr. Coke's arrival in" 
Jamaica on the 19th of February, 1789, bringing 
light to them that were sitting in darkness, and, 
as the sequel proved, the opening of the prison- 



The Old Sanctuary. 507 

doors to those who were in bondage, both tem- 
poral and spiritual. He speaks of the way in 
which God put it into the hearts of some to afford 
facilities for the preaching of the truth, and how 
from the first it was the wisdom of God and the 
power of God to the salvation of them that heard 
it — souls being awakened and brought to God. 
He tells of persecutions commencing with the be- 
ginning of the mission, and how God gave peace 
for a season by smiting down one of the leading 
oppressors suddenly to the grave in the midst of 
his evil doings, an event which many there re- 
member well. He refers to the men of God, well 
known to not a few of the congregation, who, for 
preaching the truth, were immured in the dun- 
geons of Kingston and Morant Bay. He carries 
them back to the closing of the chapel by a per- 
secuting municipal law for seven years, during 
which no voice of praise or prayer, no proclama- 
tion of saving truth, was heard within those hal- 
lowed walls. Hundreds of thoughtful hearts 
respond as he dwells upon the prosperity and 
increase of the persecuted Church, showing how 
in the dark days, when persecution was triumph- 
ant, and the lips of faithful ministers were silenced, 
the Divine Spirit wrought powerfully in many 
hearts, awakening and convincing of sin, and de- 
positing there the seed of immortal life, so that 
the down-trodden Church grew abundantly in 
spiritual life and energy. Many in the congre- 
gation were brought to God at that time. 

He sketches, in vivid description, the combina- 



508 Romance Without Fiction. 

tions of slaveholding intolerants to extinguish the 
spreading light of Jehovah's saving truth by the 
enactment of oppressive laws, filled with the cun- 
ning and subtlety of the old Serpent. Under the 
pretext of ameliorating the condition of the poor 
plundered slave, these malignant acts were de- 
signed to enhance the wretchedness and hopeless- 
ness of his lot by shutting him up in ignorance of 
God and of salvation, depriving him of all oppor- 
tunity of hearing the truth which could make him 
wise. to salvation, and gladden his spirit in the 
deep debasement of his bondage with the glorious 
prospects of immortality and the better life above. 
He then, with joyous gratitude to Him that sits 
upon the throne, and controls and directs all 
events of earth — " by whom kings reign and 
princes decree justice " — describes how the un- 
hallowed purposes of the persecutors were baffled 
from time to time by God putting it into the heart 
of the reigning sovereign to disallow those intol- 
erant laws, by withholding that royal assent which 
was necessary to give them validity and perma- 
nence. 

He refers to the scene which those around him 
witnessed only a few months before, when all over 
the land thousands were gathered at the midnight 
hour in the sanctuaries of Jehovah to celebrate 
the final extinction of slavery, and to receive, as it 
were, from the Divine hand, the precious boon of 
freedom. Then they beheld thousands kneel 
down with all the restrictions of civil bondage 
upon them, and rise up again in a few minutes the 



The Old Sanctuary. 509 

free subjects of the British crown. He reminds 
them of the joy which thrilled through many 
hearts when they heard, in the sonorous tone of 
the adjacent church bell, as it rang out the mid- 
night hour, the death-knell of the system. And 
he brings back again, as it were, the scene of 
weeping, wondrous excitement that met their 
view while the newly-emancipated multitude that 
thronged the chapel then sang, in strains only to 
be surpassed in sublimity and beauty by the 
chorus of the skies, 

" Send the glad tidings o'er the sea ; 
His chain is broke, the slave is free. 
Britannia's justice, wealth, and might, 
Have gained the negro's long-lost right. 
His chain is broke, the slave is free: 
This is the negro's jubilee ! " 

From all these things the preacher brings forth 
illustrations of the text, and shows how the good 
hand of the Lord has been with the mission 
through all its history, arranging and overruling 
events, even the most adverse, to wise and gra- 
cious issues, fulfilling his own glorious promise, 
"All things work together for good to them that 
love God." 

He pictures to them the fierce and fiery perse- 
cution through which the mission has been passing' 
more recently. He tells of sanctuaries demolished 
by the hands of persecuting violence, or destroyed 
by fire ; now, by God's good favor, rising again 
out of their ruins and furnishing enlarged means of 



510 Romance Without Fiction. 

accommodation to Christian worshipers. He 
5 peaks of ministers ferociously assailed by excited 
mobs of slave-oppressors in their own houses, or 
hunted for their lives like partridges upon the 
mountains, but saved by a gracious interposing 
Providence from injury and death. He tells of 
other missionary servants of God tried on false 
charges before civil and military tribunals, the 
evidence being obtained by subornation of perjury 
to condemn them, but breaking down under the 
weight of its own manifest falsehood and incon- 
gruity. He names a long list of devoted, faithful 
men who, within the last six or seven years, have 
endured the loathsome pestilential atmosphere of 
Jamaica dungeons for preaching the truth of 
Christ to perishing men — Whitehouse, Orton, 
Greenwood, Murray, Box, Rowden, all suffering 
the horrors- of imprisonment for Jesus, and Grims- 
nall, who, poisoned by prison malaria, sank un- 
der the hands of his persecutors into a martyr's 
grave. 

He rejoices, and many hearts partake his joy, 
that these things have come to an end ; having in 
the counsels of unerring Wisdom, and in the exer- 
cise of a kind and beneficent Providence, been 
overruled to the overthrow of that system of op- 
pression which they were designed to support and 
perpetuate, 

With due solemnity, and without mentioning 
names, the preacher, while his auditors listen with 
breathless interest, calls upon them to regard the 
works of the Lord and consider the operation of 



The Old Sanctuary. 5 1 1 

his hands, in that providence of righteous retribu- 
tion which is even now in exercise around them, 
reminding them that the Lord " ordaineth his 
arrows against the persecutors." He shows how 
" the arms of the wicked have been broken," and 
the righteous have been upheld in the events of 
the last few years. He speaks of suicides, acci- 
dents, and terrible judgments following in rapid 
succession. Profound reverence pervades that 
vast assembly while the preacher goes on to de- 
scribe the unhallowed combination into' which 
these men had entered only a short time before, 
joining hand in hand to extinguish the light of 
God's truth, destroy his sanctuaries, and drive all 
Gospel messengers from the land ; and how, in a 
manner most wonderful, God had scattered them, 
and brought their devices to none effect. With 
solemn emphasis he quotes those words of the 
Psalmist, while all hearts feel their power and 
truth : " Wait on the Lord, and keep his way, and 
he shall exalt thee to inherit the land : when the 
wicked are cut off, thou shalt see it. I hav£ seen 
the wicked in great power, and spreading himself 
like a green bay tree. Yet he passed away, and, 
lo, he was not : yea, I sought him, but he could 
not be found." Psalm xxxvii, 34-36. The two 
great lessons which the preacher derives from his 
review of the past, and urges upon the hearers, 
are, " Gratitude for Divine Head of the Church 
for the help given to the mission in the past, and 
a sure trust and confidence that his presence and 
aid will bless the future." 



512 Romanxe Without Fiction. 

The public service closes with a hymn and 
prayer. But only a few then left the chapel, 
for the services of the day are to be closed with 
the celebration of the holy communion. Those 
who remain have come once more to renew their 
covenant engagements with their God and Saviour 
on that well-loved spot, where they have been 
born again for the better and unchanging life of 
the heavenly world; and it is to gratify the desire 
of thousands that this sacramental service is ap- 
pointed*' to be held. The few who have retired as 
non-communicants are barely sufficient to afford 
space for easy access to the communion place. 
Not only is the chapel crowded, but also the large 
band-room below ; and hundreds have to wait 
outside who cannot obtain access to the building 
at all. 

Probably never in the history of Methodism has 
there been such a numerous assemblage of com- 
municants on the same spot at one time. They 
are to be counted by thousands. More than two 
thousand persons claim membership with this old 
sanctuary ; and the multitudes of others who are 
entitled to the privileges of Christian fellowship 
in Methodist Churches are there, to unite, for the 
last time, in the sacramental ordinance beneath 
the roof which has so often resounded with their 
prayers and praises. 

In addition to the minister upon whom has de- 
volved the final services in the old sanctuary on 
this last day of its existence, three others, after 
discharging their duties elsewhere, have come to 



The Old Sanctuary. 513 

give their aid in the service. This, from the vast 
numbers gathered together, is likely to be a pro- 
tracted one, and exhaustive of the physical energies 
which have already been severely taxed by the ex- 
ercises of a laborious day. 

Philip Chapman is there, a man of noble pres- 
ence, just ripened into full manhood, whose ex- 
cellent gifts, nurtured and developed among the 
earliest residents in the training college for Wes- 
leyan ministers, afford rich promise of usefulness; 
which is, alas ! destined to be cut off by his early 
removal to the mansions above. 

Robert Inglis is there, gifted in no ordinary de- 
gree with a chastened eloquence that charms the 
multitude, and is destined to secure for him an 
honorable place among his brethren in the Churches 
of Britain in after years. 

Samuel Simmons is there, all unconscious that, 
like Moses, training among the flocks and herds 
of Horeb for the lofty position he was destined to 
occupy as the leader of Jehovah's chosen people, he 
is here being trained and molded under the Mas- 
ter's hand to stand in future years at the head of 
one of the educational institutions of Methodism ; 
a position that shall invest him with power to in- 
fluence in no small degree the destinies of the 
youth of the denomination. 

The four ministers take their places within the 
communion rail, and proceed with the prelimi- 
naries of the solemn service. Then follows the 
distribution of the elements among themselves. 
Dense as the crowd is there is perfect silence, 



514 Romance Without Fiction. 

and a solemn sense of Jehovah's presence pervades 
the congregation. Tears of varying emotion are 
flowing down many cheeks. In sweet, subdued, 
solemn cadence arise those words of beautiful 
meaning, sung by a thousand voices, felt in thou- 
sands of hearts : 

" Victim Divine ! thy grace we claim 

While thus thy precious death we show \ 

Once offered up a spotless Lamb, 
In thy great temple here below, 

Thou didst for all mankind atone, 

And standest now before the throne." 

While these strains are going up before God, 
through the narrow opening in the crowd, which 
has been kept clear to afford access to the com- 
munion table, an aged couple slowly advance to 
the rail and kneel there by themselves. Both are 
enfeebled by age ; and they are specimens of the 
classes who constitute the bulk of the Methodist 
Churches. The one is pure black, the other of 
mixed blood — a mulatto — and they come to the 
communion table alone, as the only surviving 
members of the first class formed in the land in 
connection with the Methodist mission. One is 
William Harris, the other Sarah Wilkinson, the 
only survivors of the little society of Methodists 
formed by Dr. Coke on his first visit to the 
island. 

It is with peculiar feelings that the presiding 
minister hands to this pair of faithful pilgrims, 
now near the end of their journey, the emblems 



The Old Sanctuary. 515, 

of their Saviour's dying love. He rejoices with 
them that, besides the goodly multitude of re- 
deemed spirits which, during the lapse of the fifty 
years since they gave themselves to Christ, have 
passed away from this land into the abodes of the 
blessed, the little class of which they were the earliest 
members has expanded into numerous Churches, 
scattered over all the land, whose living members 
furnish an aggregate of more than twenty thousand 
souls. In a few words he congratulates them on 
the near prospect in which they exult of entering 
triumphantly the joy of their Lord, and they re- 
tire as they approached, attended with the respect 
and reverence of all beholders. 

This interesting episode finished, the multitude 
of communicants begin to approach the table. 
The crowd is great, but there is no pushing, no 
selfish striving for precedence. The true courte- 
sy which the unselfishness of Christianity inspires 
pervades the entire assembly, maintaining a per- 
fect order and quietude befitting the solemnity of 
the occasion. A cheerful preference is yielded to 
the aged and infirm. As the service goes on a 
continuous stream pours down one side of the 
broad staircase to the rooms below, while another 
unbroken stream ascends on the other side to 
take the places they have vacated in the chapel 
above. Occasionally a hymn is sung to afford 
utterance to the devotional feelings of the mul- 
titude ; but no time is lost. The four ministers 
are engaged continuously in the distribution of 

the sacred elements. Nine o'clock tolls from the 
33 



516 Romance Without Fiction. 

adjacent church steeple. Then ten o'clock comes, 
and still the stream of communicants pours in and 
retires. Eleven o'clock finds the ministers weary. 
in, but not of, their delightful toil, and it is still 
the same. Not until the midnight hour has been 
rung out in sonorous tones from the town clock do 
the people cease to come. Then, with the dox- 
ology and the closing prayer and benediction, the 
congregation is dismissed. Many of them linger 
to look again and again upon the place, grown 
dingy with age, but endeared to their hearts by 
the precious memories of the past, associated with 
glorious hopes of the future, that have been awak- 
ened there. 

Thus terminates a day never to be forgotten by 
the missionary whose privilege it has been to con- 
duct the several services by which it has been 
occupied. These services will be classed among 
many strange and heart-stirring scenes which, in 
the good providence of God, have been permitted 
to mark and diversify a life that has not yet 
reached its manhood prime. He too lingers for 
a short time to look around upon the time-hon- 
ored walls, in which he has listened to and seen 
so much during the day to stir the profoundest 
depths of his nature, and produce impressions 
that can never be erased. 

One scene is fresh in his recollection. Here 
only a few months ago it was his honor and priv- 
ilege to stand up a few hours after the fetters had 
dropped at the midnight hour from the limbs of 
more than eight hundred thousand British slaves, 



The Old Sanctuary. 517 

and proclaim to the dominant class of the popu- 
lation — now slaveholders no longer — " Ye were 
now turned, and had done right in my sight, in 
proclaiming every one liberty to his neighbor. ,, 
Jer. xxxiv, 15. 

Wearied with exhausting toil, continuing almost 
without intermission from six in the morning until 
after midnight, and which has strained to the full- 
est tension all his faculties of mind and body, he 
lays him down to find a welcome rest, devotedly 
grateful to Almighty God for the manifold bless- 
ings of that memorable day. 

The sun has advanced several hours toward his 
zenith before the worn-out energies of the mis- 
sionary have been so recruited as to suffer him to 
rise. When he directs his footsteps to the large 
open square, on the eastern side of which the 
chapel, which was the scene of the past day's 
labors, occupies a prominent position, and lifts his 
eyes to the familiar spot, he beholds a ruin ! From 
early dawn the contractor has taken possession of 
the building, and a large gang of laborers have 
been engaged in the work of demolition. Only a 
fragment of the roof is left upon the walls. And 
what a scene is presented all around ! All over 
the extensive square there are groups of people, 
amounting to some thousands, who have come 
from far and near to see, as they say, " the last of 
the old house." It is a Bochim, for weeping and 
lamentation are all around. There are hundreds 
of sable faces bedewed with tears, and loud and 
general are the expressions of regret which burst 



5 18 Romance Without Fiction. 

forth from the spectators as they wring their hands 
and gaze upon the spoiling of the place, which, 
destitute of all architectural pretensions, has been 
to them, above every other spot on earth, " the holy 
and the beautiful place." 

Thus it continues through the day. One group 
of mourners succeeds another until the night closes 
in upon a heap of ruins. But out of these shall 
arise another and more commodious house of 
prayer, which, like the one giving place to it, is 
destined to resound with prayer and praise and 
the faithful proclamation of the grand saving 
truths of the Gospel. And the second sanctuary, 
like the first, shall become the honored birth- 
place of a multitude of souls quickened there to 
spiritual and endless life, who, when their redemp- 
tion is completed at the end of time, shall shine 
forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father 
for ever and ever. 



The Curse Causeless. 519 



XXVI. 



The Curse Causeless. 

Lives there a savage ruder than the slave ? 
— Cruel as death, insatiate as the grave, 
False as the winds that round his vessel blow, 
Eemorseless as the gulf that yawns below, 
Is he who toils upon the wafting flood, 
A Christian broker in the trade of blood; 
Boisterous in speech, in action prompt and bold, 
He buys, he sells — he steals, he kills for gold ! 

Montgomery. 



C( <*±_ 



r F I could have my will I would blow up the. 

M cursed sedition shop, hurl it down from the 
hill, and throw every brick and timber of it 

into the sea. I should like to see the chapel 

blasted with lightning and tumbled down from the 
rock." 

The speaker was the captain of a merchant ship 
then lying at anchor in Manchioneal Bay, at the 
east end of Jamaica, taking in her cargo of sugar 
and rum for an English port. He was a burly, 
coarse-looking man, whose countenance, bloated 
and fiery red, spoke of frequent and liberal pota- 
tions, and marked him out as belonging to that 
numerous class of marine commanders whose in- 
temperate habits are productive of more damage 
and destruction to ships, passengers, and cargoes 
than all the fury of the elements, and are the 
means of bringing about more shipwrecks than 



520 Romance Without Fiction. 

any other single cause whatever ; men fond of 
using the marlinspike upon the heads of their 
crews, and whose savage barbarities, practiced 
upon the unfortunate sailors and boys intrusted 
to their control, not unfrequently furnish soul- 
harrowing details for the columns of the newspa- 
per press. 

This Captain B. had for some years been trading 
to Jamaica ports. Frequently lying there for sev- 
eral months together, while his cargo was being 
prepared or collected for him, he had formed inti- 
mate associations with some of the most hardened 
of the slave-driving fraternity ; and he had become 
imbued with that brutal indifference to human suf- 
fering by which many of the Jamaica planters were 
characterized, from long familiarity with the worst 
atrocities incident to such a system of outrage and 
wrong. It was even whispered that in the evil 
days, when the British ensign floated over the deck 
of -the slave-ship trading to the African coast, he 
had been in command of one of those floating 
hells, and had become familiarized with habits of 
reckless cruelty which more nearly assimilate men 
to fiends than any thing else on this side of perdi- 
tion. If such were the case, the shocking deprav- 
ity and brutality by which the man was distin- 
guished were sufficiently accounted for. 

However this may be, Captain B. was a man 
ready for every evil work. Even in that sin- 
stained land, where all wickedness was rampant, 
none could imbibe deeper potations than he. 
None could surpass him in the utterance of bias- 



The Curse Causeless. 521 

phemous and horrible imprecations, which fell al- 
most incessantly from his unhallowed lips and yet 
more polluted heart. None were more shameless 
in the practice of unbounded licentiousness and 
debauchery. That such a man should look with 
evil eye upon the benevolent work of the Chris- 
tian missionary among the toil-worn slaves was not 
surprising; and that he should enter, heart and 
soul, into any persecuting measures of the Jamaica 
planters, was to be looked for as a matter of course. 
In the early part of 1832, when an unholy com- 
bination was formed by the plantocracy of Ja- 
maica, to banish all missionary instructors of their 
slaves from the land, and to demolish all the sanc- 
tuaries in which the word of life was held forth to 
the oppressed, in order that the yoke of bondage 
might be more securely and permanently bound 
upon the down-trodden race, none were more for- 
ward and active than Captain B. in deeds of vio- 
lence and sacrilege. His ship, then lying in the 
north-side port, contributed ropes and blocks to 
promote the demolition of several houses of prayer. 
The men under his command, inflamed and mad- 
dened by a large allowance of rum, dealt out 
to them for the purpose, were marched from 
place to place to assist the planters in their fiendish 
rage to lay Christian sanctuaries level with the 
ground. In this Captain B. found a labor of love, 
toiling himself, with an energy he never devoted to 
any good or useful purpose, in the abortive effort 
to drive Christian teachers from the country by 
destroying their chapels and their dwellings. 



522 Romance Without Fiction. 

It was about a year after these deeds of violence 
had been perpetrated, and while the demolished 
sanctuaries still lay in heaps of ruins, that the ship 
of which Captain B. was the commander, the J< E.," 
had arrived in the small harbor of Martchioneal to 
take in her cargo of sugar and rum. And it was 
shortly after she had dropped her anchor in the 
bay that her captain, passing along the single 
street of the little village, lifted his eyes to a build- 
ing occupying a beautiful and prominent situation 
far above him, and gave utterance, with oaths and 
curses the repetition of which may not pollute our 
pages, to the words we have referred to. The 
building in question was a neat-looking Methodist 
place of worship, built of brick, and occupying a 
lovely position on the side of the hill, which rises 
abruptly from the beach along which the main 
road passes to the north of the island. 

An enchanting landscape presented itself to view 
from the rocky platform on which the humble sanc- 
tuary had been placed. Just beneath was the little 
bay, hemmed in by dangerous reefs. Beyond this 
was seen the broad ocean, stretching away to the 
east in boundless perspective, with the vast rollers 
of the Atlantic breaking with thundering roar upon 
the reefs outside, sending clouds of snow-white 
spray high into the air. On either side stretched 
the iron-bound coast. The numerous plantations, 
with their massive sugar-works and vast fields of 
luxuriant cane, diversified and enriched with sym- 
metrical cabbage-palms and plume-topped cocoa- 
nut trees, exhibited a scene of wondrous beauty 



The Curse Causeless. 523 

only to be looked upon within or near the tropics. 
With a malignity only equaled by its folly, this 
ruffianly man had joined with the St. Ann's and 
Trelawny planters in drunken vows and pledges 
that every missionary establishment should be 
overthrown; flattering themselves with the vain 
hope that the work of destruction they had com- 
menced on the north side would go on until no 
missionary preaching-place for the slaves could be 
found in the iand. 

In this expectation he had sailed from the island 
a few months before. All the fiend within him is 
aroused, and he raves like a maniac when, hasten- 
ing ashore, as soon as he has dropped his anchor 
in the bay, one of the first objects that arrests his 
attention is the Methodist chapel, confronting him 
in prominent security on the hill, the glass win- 
dows of the little sanctuary reflecting with dazzling 
brilliancy the rays of the morning sun. He stands 
heaping curses upon all missionaries and their 
chapels, and denouncing the cowardice of the 
planters in the neighborhood, which has allowed 
the chapel before him to remain undestroyed. 
Shaking his clenched fist in impotent malice at the 
object of his wrath, he concludes his tirade of 
blasphemy and profaneness with the sentence al- 
ready given : " If I could have my will I would 
blow up the cursed sedition shop, hurl it from the 
hill, and throw every brick and timber of it into 

the sea. I should like to see the chapel 

blasted with lightning and tumbled down from the 
rock." 



524 Romance Without Fiction. 

His violence and loud denunciations have caused 
several persons to collect around him, wondering 
at the rage into which the sight of the uninjured 
chapel has thrown him. No one attempts to inter- 
rupt him until his rage seems to be somewhat ex- 
hausted. But when he has finished, a decent, 
middle-aged black woman steps up to him. Her 
heart has been stirred within her on hearing these 
impotent curses heaped upon the place which is 
dearer and more sacred to her than any other spot 
on earth, as having been the birthplace of her 
soul, and the scene of many a heartfelt joy. Lay- 
ing her hand gently upon his arm she says, " Take 
care, cap'en, dat dem curse no come 'pon your 
own ship. Look out, cap'en, dat God no break dat 
ship to pieces, and trow him in de sea, for de bad 
word you speak here to-day." The blasphemer 
is — to use a nautical expression — brought up all 
standing by this unexpected rebuke, while the 
woman passes on, not disposed, apparently, to 
await the volley of abuse that might have been 
expected to follow it. But the blasphemer, con- 
tent with bidding his reprover go to that dark re- 
gion to which he himself was manifestly hastening, 
turns away, and takes his departure in the opposite 
direction. 

In due time he gets his vessel loaded, and takes 
his cargo in safety across the Atlantic, and after 
the lapse of some months the "E." again drops 
her anchor in Manchioneal Bay. And here stands 
the chapel as before, its windows throwing back in 
golden glory the first bright rays of the morning 



The Curse Causeless. 525 

sun. And there it is likely to remain ; tor during 
the last few months the power of the oppressor has 
been broken in these sunny isles by the passing of 
the law which breaks off the manacles from nearly 
a million of British slaves. Already God has or- 
dained his arrows against the persecutors ; and not 
a few of the bold, bad men who had lifted sacrile- 
gious hands against the sanctuaries of the living 
God are lying silent and powerless in the grave, 
to which they have been swept by the judgments 
of his hand. The reign of violence and persecution 
has been checked. The unholy band which for a 
season trampled down law and order, and filled 
the land with violence and wrong, has been shat- 
tered — broken in pieces like a potter's vessel. 

Captain B. proceeds with the loading of his 
vessel, and she has her full cargo on board — filled 
to the hatches with the last produce of sugar and 
rum that is to be obtained within the British West 
India Isles by the unrequited toil of the slaves. 
It is in the early part of 1834, just after my re- 
moval to a new sphere of labor in the eastern dis- 
trict of the island in which Manchioneal is 
included. On a lovely day in March I paid my 
first visit to the pleasant little town of Manchioneal. 
Traveling from Bath in a gig, I w T as enchanted with 
the beautiful scenery on the way; especially the 
magnificent panorama of rural beauty spread before 
my eye as I gazed from Qua Hill upon the far- 
stretching plantations of the Plantain Garden river. 
Never before had I looked upon such a scene of 
paradisaic loveliness. As I enter the little town 



526 Romance Without Fiction. 

where my journey is to terminate, I see the " E." 
deep in the water, with the rich freight she has 
taken in. Riding gracefully at anchor in the land- 
locked bay, with all her sails bent ready to put to 
sea, she forms a prominent and pleasant object in 
the landscape, which varies continually as I drive 
along the beach and round the points and bluffs 
that project into the road. 

In conversation with the people, after reaching 
the end of my journey, I ascertain that the " E." 
has completed her cargo nearly two weeks ago ; 
but it is the peculiarity of this harbor that only a 
westerly wind will carry a loaded ship out of the 
bay, and the wind must have some force in it to 
carry her beyond the Carpenter's Reefs. 

This is a very ugly, dangerous bed of rocks 
lying right across the entrance, upon which many 
hapless vessels have been cast through venturing, 
with too light a breeze, to attempt to get out of the 
harbor, and face the great swelling billows of the 
Atlantic, which the. trade winds send rolling di- 
rectly into the bay with stupendous power. It is 
but seldom that a westerly wind does prevail 
there, and Captain B. has been waiting day after 
day, looking in vain for the favoring breeze. 

Not remarkable for his patience and amiability 
at any time, he has wrought himself, under the 
continued disappointment, into a mood which ren- 
ders it as pleasant to approach him as it would be 
to meet a bear robbed of her whelps. Except 
among the planters, who are men of kindred spirit 
in this locality, he is an object of general dislike. 



The Curse Causeless. 527 

He has boasted loudly of the part he took in the 
destruction of mission property in a distant part 
of the island. He has done all he could to stir up 
others to do the same here ; and the anathemas he 
uttered against the chapel on the hill a year ago, 
and the rebuke and warning administered to him 
by the negro woman, have been matter of conver- 
sation in many a cottage and hut around the 
neighborhood. He has, therefore, met with little 
sympathy as the weeks have rolled on, and his 
wind-bound ship failed to get to sea. The day on 
which I arrive upon the scene, and learn all 
these particulars from the people of the village, 
happens to be the day for the monthly muster of 
the militia of the parish ; and the redoubtable 
captain has gone to dine with, and share the revels 
of, a party of planter officers, who are in the habit 
of celebrating such an occasion by a drunken 
carousal, in which Captain B. has not the least 
objection to participate. 

A lovely night follows the beautiful day which 
marks my first visit to Manchioneal, and the 
brilliant moon, in her second quarter, is shedding 
floods of silver glory all around, when about ten 
o'clock I retire to the room prepared for me. I 
have not yet laid down to rest, when the loud 
booming report of a large gun awakens the echoes 
of the hills around, arousing many from their early 
slumbers, as I can hear from the hum of numerous 
voices floating upon the air. A few minutes elapse, 
and again the thundering of the cannon coming 
from the sea startles the listening inhabitants of 



528 Romance Without Fiction. 

the town, and proclaims that there is a vessel in 
distress at the mouth of the harbor. All eyes are 
directed to the bay, and it i^ discovered that the 
"E." is no longer at her anchorage. Through 
the clear moonlight she can be seen with her sails 
fluttering in the utmost disorder, and apparently, 
lying on her broadside, upon the Carpenter's Reef. 
The bay is calm and smooth. A crowd gathers 
on the beach, and a multitude of b<pats are soon 
pushing off in eager haste to render aid to the un- 
fortunate vessel. It is not much, however, that 
they can do. The "E." is in a position to be- 
come a hopeless wreck ; for the " curse cause- 
less" breathed by her captain upon the house of 
prayer, has fallen upon his own ship ; and there, 
in perfectly fine weather, she lies cast away upon 
the rocks. 

The facts which have led to the catastrophe soon 
transpire. The captain, inflamed and rendered 
foolhardy by the large potations he has imbibed at 
the militia officers' party, arrived at the bay soon 
after dark, and hailing his boat, immediately went 
on board. A slight westerly wind — the first time for 
many weeks — was blowing off the shore, and he 
at once gav.e orders for the anchor to be weighed, 
and for the ship to be put to sea. The mate, 
whose brain was not muddled with strong drink, 
ventured to remonstrate, and told the captain that 
the breeze was not sufficiently strong to carry the 
ship safely beyond the Carpenter's. With brutal 
curses he was bidden to "stop his jaw, and mind 
his own business." Not without dismal forebod- 



The Curse Causeless, 529 

ings he proceeded to obey orders, and get the 
ship under weigh ; and soon, with lifted anchor, 
-the fine vessel, all her sails spread to the breeze, 
was slowly moving on her dangerous course to the 
mouth of the bay. As the mate had foreseen, be- 
fore they got clear of the fatal bed of rocks the 
wind failed, and every sail was flapping useless 
against the masts, leaving the vessel at the mercy 
of the heavy waves, rolling in with the full force 
of the trade-winds from the vast Atlantic Ocean. 
Too late the drunken commander was sobered by 
the peril upon which he had madly rushed. He 
saw the danger, but he was helpless. The ship 
was drifting back toward the rocks, and he or- 
dered the two guns to be fired which gave the 
alarm on shore. In a few moments one monster 
wave lifted her for a second or two upon its crest, 
and then heaved her with a tremendous crash, by 
which her side was smashed in, high upon the 
Carpenter's Reef, where many a fair vessel before 
her had found a grave. 

The shock has been sufficient to snap her 
masts asunder like carrots ; and all three of them, 
with sails and rigging, have fallen over the ship. 
There is, however, but little danger to life ; for 
the J ship is thrown high upon the reef, where she 
is likely to remain ; and the shore is close at hand, 
with numerous boats ready in the bay, where the 
water is comparatively smooth, to come to the help 
of the crew. 

These are the particulars which I gather 
concerning the wreck, partly on the beach, after 



530 Romance Without Fiction. 

the guns have given the signal of a ship in dis- 
tress, and partly on following days as the facts 
come gradually to light. " Me no wonder a bit, 
minister," says one of my informants, who seems 
to take a very lively interest in the melancholy 
event. " Sorry for dat cap'en lose him ship ; but 
me no wonder, minister, dat de cuss come 'pon 
him own head. Me tell him so, minister. When 
him cuss de chapel, and w r ish to see him all 
broken down in pieces, and trow into de sea, me 
tell him, i Take care, cap'en, de cuss no come 'pon 
your own ship. Take care God no break him 
in pieces when you go to sea.' And for sure de 
ship is now all going to pieces on de Carpenter 
Reef." 

It is a mournful spectacle truly. The next day, 
Sunday, the weather is beautifully fine and the sea 
comparatively still. There, almost out of the 
water, lies the " E." on her broadside, in such 
a position that, although it is evident she will be 
a total wreck, yet there is a hope that the larger 
portion of her valuable cargo may be rescued. 
Ere the dawn of another day this hope has van- 
ished. A strong easterly breeze has set in, bring- 
ing a heavy rolling sea right into the bay. The 
mighty waves break over and soon break through 
the unfortunate vessel, washing out all her cargo, of 
which little besides some puncheons of rum can be 
saved. In a short time the wreck is broken all to 
pieces by the violence of the w r aves ; and all that 
is left of the ship I saw so proudly riding upon 
the surface of the bay a few days ago is a quantity 



The Curse Causeless. 531 

of broken, shattered timbers, strewed upon the 
sands. Captain B., chagrined and greatly broken 
down by the magnitude of the calamity that has 
come upon him, took passage to England in a 
ship from another port, a sadder and, I hope, a 
wiser man. I never met with nor heard of him 
again. 

- 34 



532 Romance Without Fiction. 



XXVII. 

The Wedding. 

Are we not one ? are we not joined by Heaven ? 
Each interwoven with the other's fate ? 
Are we not mix'd like streams of meeting- rivers, 
Whose blended waters are no more distinguished, 
But roll into the sea one common flood ? — Eowe. 

t-JHE bride come, minister, and all the party 
}&t^ are m the chapel." So spake Anthony, 
the chapel-keeper at E,, Barbadoes, as 
he made his appearance in my study one fore- 
noon to carry down the ponderous marriage reg- 
ister books, - which were always kept there for 
safety, and were now required for use. 

Proceeding immediately to the chapel close at 
hand, I found a large and *gay party assembled. 
There were at least a dozen vehicles of various 
descriptions at the front of the chapel, several of 
them the handsome family equipages of the resi- 
dent proprietors of the surrounding plantations. 
These gentlemen would sometimes kindly afford 
the use of their carriages when young people 
among their employes were about to enter into 
hymeneal relations, and they or their parents or 
friends had won the good-will of their aristocratic 
neighbors. Consequently a marriage among peo- 
ple of lowly condition in Barbadoes, or other West 



The Wedding. 533 

India colonies, is often marked by a degree of 
show and bustle that awakens the surprise of a 
stranger. Sometimes, if it happens to be a favor- 
ite domestic that appears as the bride, the ladies 
of the family will lend their jewels, gold chains, 
etc., for the occasion, and enable the sable maiden 
to present herself to her future lord adorned in 
almost eastern splendor. 

On the present occasion the carriage of one of 
the principal men of the parish, drawn by a pair 
of powerful bays, and driven by a servant in half 
livery, had brought the bride and a coterie of her 
bridesmaids and friends to the chapel. Another 
vehicle of a similar description, the pride of an- 
other wealthy proprietor in the vicinity, had 
brought the bridegroom and some of his friends ; 
barouches, phaetons, and gigs making up the re- 
mainder of the imposing train. When all were 
assembled the message was dispatched to the 
minister, who was awaiting it in his study, that the 
party had arrived, and all things were ready for 
the marriage. 

On entering the chapel I found a gathering of 
forty or fifty persons, all attired in the gayest cos- 
tume, the lady portion of the company especially 
glittering with all the colors of the rainbow, and 
as many golden and gilded ornaments as they 
could by borrowing or other means press into 
service for the festive occasion. When I took my 
place within the communion rails they gathered 
around the youthful couple who were to be the 
principal actors in the ceremony, standing in the 



534 Romance Without Fiction. 

center, immediately in front of me. Both of them 
exhibited a complexion of the purest jet, but regu- 
lar and symmetrical features, showing how power- 
ful is the effect of advancing intelligence in modi- 
fying the expression of "the human face divine." 
Many of the negroes in the British colonies, under 
the ameliorating influences of freedom, are be- 
coming assimilated in their features to the Euro- 
pean type. The broad, flat nose becomes less 
broad and flat in the next generation, and the 
thick, prominent lip becomes more thin and less 
prominent. It is by no means uncommon to find 
really handsome specimens of both sexes, graceful 
in face and figure, and, though black, yet comely. 
Such were the pair I was called upon to unite in 
matrimonial bonds. 

The bride was very tastefully robed in purest 
white, with abundance of ribbon adorning, and a 
fashionable bonnet, surmounted by the significant 
orange-flower wreath. Through the thin texture of 
the elaborate bridal vail could be seen the pleas- 
ant-looking, youthful, sable countenance, exhibit- 
ing a slight, but only a slight, degree of the African 
type of feature, and radiant, when the vail was 
thrown back, with the happiness which should 
always attend upon the heaven-instituted cere- 
monial that is intended by its divine Author to 
be a source of increasing joy and happiness to the 
human race. A rich, gold chain, with brooch, 
ear-rings, and bracelets, graced the person of the 
bride, lent for the occasion by the mistress whose 
house she was leaving for the more humble roof 



The Wedding. 535 

of her future husband, and whose favor she had 
earned by faithful and respectful service. By the 
side of the pretty-looking, blooming bride stood 
the young bridegroom, in a handsome suit of cloth, 
excepting the fine white vest, always deemed the 
most appropriate for the gentleman's bridal cos- 
tume. New hat, highly polished boots, a glittering 
white silk cravat, and spotless kid gloves, com- 
pleted the fitting-out of the young man whose dark 
face, surmounted by a carefully-dressed crop of 
woolly hair, showed scarcely any traces of the 
stereotyped African nose and lips. It only re- 
quired a change of hue to exhibit a face (with 
small, regular, symmetrical features adapted to a 
well-formed, graceful, muscular person) that many 
a wearer of a coronet would rejoice to see in the 
heir to his title and estates. New suits of broad- 
cloth, distinguishing the stronger sex, and a daz- 
•zling array of muslins and bareges, with silk stock- 
ings and colored shoes, feathers and artificial 
flowers, gold jewelry and white kid gloves, with 
smiling black and tawny faces, and teeth glitter- 
ing like pearls, among the softer sex, surrounded 
the young couple behind and on either hand, 
constituting altogether a somewhat imposing 
spectacle. 

As soon as the bride was correctly placed at the 
left hand of her future lord, and the three or four 
bridesmaids had been arranged in position to ren- 
der the service required of them during the cere- 
mony, we proceeded with the business in hand. 
First of all, one of the bridesmaids adjusted the 



536 Romance Without Fiction. 

flowing vail of the bride, so that with -open face she 
might utter the vows of fidelity, love, and obedience ; 
while another proceeded, at my request, to draw off 
the delicate white gloves, that with one hand she 
might respond to her lover's manly grasp when 
taking her over to himself, and on the other receive 
the golden pledge of a husband's fidelity and love. 
A short time sufficed for the solemn ceremonial 
that united them in unseverable bonds, making of 
the twain one flesh, and bringing them into rela- 
tions that should materially influence the destinies 
of two immortal spirits through the ages of eter- 
nity. No frivolity or giggling marked the pro- 
ceedings. A more becoming propriety could not 
have been maintained had it been the princely 
marriage of two scions of royalty in the cloistered 
abbey of Westminster or the stately chapel of St. 
James's palace. Devout responses were given to 
the prayers which went up to God on behalf of- 
the youthful pair, the nuptial benediction was 
pronounced, and they stood before the now smil- 
ing crowd of relatives and friends declared in the 
name of the ever-blessed Trinity to be man and 
w T ife. Before dismissing the assembly I thought it 
right to address a few remarks 'to the newly-mar- 
ried pair concerning the new course of life which 
lay before them, and the best way of avoiding the 
shoals and rocks upon which the happiness of 
multitudes who enter the marriage state is so 
often wrecked. The bride's attention I directed 
to the Divine admonition, so comprehensive, yet 
so natural and appropriate : " Let the wife see 



The Wedding, 537 

that she reverence her husband ;" advising her to 
cultivate those habits of meekness and amiability 
and submissive love, which are so essential on the 
wife's part to the comfort and happiness of wed- 
ded life. Then turning to the young man, who 
had listened with earnest gravity and smiling ap- 
proval to the counsels given to his young wife, I 
reminded him of the apostle's injunction, that 
" the husband should love his wife even as him- 
self," always treating her with the kind and loving 
consideration and tenderness to which woman is 
entitled at the hands of man, and more especially 
at the hands of him to whom she has committed 
herself with all her heart's best love, and on whom 
her hopes of happiness for both worlds so mate- 
rially depend. I was emphatic in deprecating as 
cowardly and unworthy and treacherous the man 
who, with his consciousness of superior strength, 
can treat a trusting wife, a loving woman, with the 
harshness and cruelty which we see many wives 
are made to suffer by those who are bound, in all 
honor and fidelity, to shield them as far as possi- 
ble from every unkindly blast and every saddening 
influence, from whatever quarter it may come. 
The young man looked into my eyes with the 
greatest earnestness as I spoke to him, now and 
then turning a loving, smiling glance upon his 
bride. That he fully understood every word I 
addressed to him I could perceive, but I could 
scarcely understand the expression that stole over 
his face as I continued, as if he felt some degree 
of difficulty or doubt concerning the matter I was 



538 Romance Without Fiction. 

urging upon his attention. Perplexity seemed to 
be the feeling that was working in his mind, and 
throwing something like a shadow upon his coun- 
tenance. I went on until I finished what I had to 
say concerning the loving regard he should cher- 
ish toward his wife. Then my gravity was over- 
powered and put to flight when the young bride- 
groom, after bestowing a somewhat troubled glance 
upon the white-robed figure beside him, lifted his 
face to me, and said, with an air of perplexed, 
amusing, inimitable simplicity, " But, minister, it 
she don't behave well, musn't I whip she ? " 

I was so taken by surprise with this strange in- 
quiry, that it was some time before I could feel 
grave enough to give a suitable reply. Then, of 
course, I told him that in the case of little chil- 
dren whipping might sometimes be requisite and 
salutary, but that in the case of a wife it was quite 
out of the question; and none but a coward, or a 
man of brutal habits, would lift his hands to strike 
a feeble woman; in which he and others around 
seemed smilingly to acquiesce. We then pro- 
ceeded to make the necessary record of the mar- 
riage, in the original and duplicate registers, to 
which the young couple, with their chosen wit- 
nesses, appended their proper signatures, both 
being able to write. The bridegroom took his 
smiling bride upon his arm, and at the head of the 
gay and glittering party walked in procession to 
the carriages. These drove off as they were suc- 
cessively filled, a very lively and imposing cortege, 
cpnveying the numerous guests to the ample feast 



The Wedding. 539 

which, through the savings of several years, had 
been provided by the young couple and their 
friends to honor the nuptial day. 

The remembrance of that marriage has often 
brought a smile to my lips as I have thought of the 
bridegroom's unlqoked for inquiry, and the sim- 
ple and earnest way in which it was propounded. 
Several years after, on revisiting the neighbor- 
hood, the young husband, an industrious carpenter, 
came among the earliest to greet me. After the 
usual salutation, I said, " Well, Joseph, how is your 
wife ? " and added, with a smile he perfectly un- 
derstood, " I hope she has made you a good wife, 
and behaves well, and that you have never thought 
of whipping she." Showing a handsome set of the 
whitest teeth, he laughingly replied, " Him quite 
well, minister, and him very good wife. Him no 
want the whip at all, minister ; and after what 
minister say, I never intend to whip she."* 



54o Romance Without Fiction. 




XXVIII. 

The Broken Promise. 

Yet still where whispers the small voice within. 
Heard through gain's silence, and o'er glory's din ; 
Whatever creed be taught, or land be trod, 
Man's conscience is the oracle of God. — Byron. 



mljOW an d pray unto the Lord." It is bet- 



ter not to vow than to leave the promise 
unfulfilled. In the West Indies, as in 
Churches and congregations nearer home, many, 
especially among the young, become subjects of 
religious impressions, in whom they never ripen 
into vital godliness — the sound, experimental, 
practical piety, which characterizes the true Chris- 
tian. Various influences combine to check the 
operations of Divine grace, and in them the good 
seed of the kingdom brings forth no fruit to perfec- 
tion. The outward profession is maintained, but 
when the day of trial comes and the test is applied 
to them they are found wanting. 

Letitia B. was a person of this class. In con- 
nection with one of the missionary Churches in 
the island of Earbadoes there had been a gracious 
awakening and revival of religion. A goodly 
number of persons had been brought to Christ, 
and made wise unto salvation through faith in 
his blood. Others had been powerfully wrought 



The Broken Promise. 541 

upon ; but resting short of conversion, in good de- 
sires and attention to outward forms and means 
of grace, continued strangers to the blessedness 
of those whose iniquity is forgiven and whose sin 
is covered, and to the soul-renewing love of Christ 
shed abroad in the heart. Of the latter number 
was Letitia B., a young black woman, the daughter 
of pious parents, who resided in the neighborhood, 
and had been for some years upright, consistent 
members of the mission Church. Letitia had 
learned to read, and was a young woman of some 
intelligence; but being of graceful form and pos- 
sessing good features — comely though black — of 
which she was by no means unconscious, she gave 
herself up to a love of finery and excessive adorri- 
ing which, in too many instances, has proved a 
snare and a hinderance to young persons in her 
position in life. 

Whether it was this besetment that prevented 
Letitia from surrendering herself fully to Christ 
and heartily embracing the great salvation in the 
day of gracious visitation, when the word reached 
her conscience, and, like Felix, she trembled be- 
fore God and felt the burden of her sins and a 
desire to flee from the wrath to come, I am not 
able to say. But one thing is certain, that while 
becoming a professor of religion, and a regular 
attendant upon its ordinances, she settled down 
into the condition of one who desires, without ex- 
periencing, the blessedness of pure and undefiled 
religion; and when the time came for the exercise 
of self-denial in the cause of Christ she failed to 



542 Romance Without Fiction. 

exhibit that adherence to principle and duty which 
the occasion required, 

The erection of a school-house, and other im- 
provements, in connection with the Christian 
sanctuary where Letitia was accustomed to wor- 
ship, called for the exercise of liberality on the 
part of the congregation ; and many of them, 
though in straitened and difficult circumstances, 
cheerfully responded to the call made upon 
them, and placed their humble offerings upon 
the altar which sanctifies every gift. Influenced 
by the example of those around her, Letitia came 
forward with apparent cheerfulness, and requested 
that her name might be entered in the lists of con- 
tributors for a dollar, which she was not prepared 
then to pay, but would pay in a short time. 
Letitia was industrious, occupying herself some- 
times as a domestic servant, and at others in those 
light labors in the field in which women and girls 
were accustomed to be employed. She had her 
own cottage, for which she paid only a small sum 
for ground rent, and was in better circumstances 
to redeem the promise she. had voluntarily made 
than many of those who had, in a self-denying 
spirit, paid up all they had engaged to contribute 
toward the building of the school -house, in which 
the juveniles of the surrounding neighborhood 
might be trained in both secular and religious 
knowledge. But somehow Letitia, in her own view 
of the case, never found herself able to pay the 
promised dollar. Many a smart new dress was 
exhibited upon Letitia's well-formed person, and 



The Broken Promise, 543 

many a gay new ribbon streamed in the breeze. 
The new silk mantle, and the bonnet of newest 
fashion, with its handsome wreath of artificial 
flowers on Sundays, and the brilliant handkerchief 
of many colors on week days, displayed the taste 
of the dress-loving Letitia as she repaired to and 
occupied her place in the house of God ; but still 
the promised dollar remained unpaid. The 
school-house and the other additions to the 
stations were completed, and nearly a hundred 
children during the week, and a much larger num- 
ber on the Sabbath, assembled to receive those 
elements of learning which were intended to fit 
them for acting their part in this life worthily, and 
prepare them for the undying joys of a blissful 
hereafter; and Letitia was often reminded by 
the officials of the Church of the debt she owed to 
the treasurer : still the promised dollar was not 
paid. 

Several years had passed, and I was expecting 
in a few weeks to remove to another and distant 
scene of labor, when one evening, after my weekly 
visit to the school, I was sitting on the chapel steps, 
occupying with a book the interval between the 
dismissal of the school and the time appointed for 
the usual -week-day service. My attention was 
suddenly arrested by the voice of distress close at 
hand, and turning to look whence it came, I be- 
held Letitia, weeping and sobbing as if she had ex- 
perienced some great sorrow. " What is the mat- 
ter, Letitia?" I inquired.* " O minister," she 
replied, " me bin rob," meaning that she had been 



544 Romance Without Fiction. 

plundered. Then she went on to inform me, as 
tears rolled down her cheeks and sobs frequently 
checked her utterance, that she had gone to 
Bridgetown on the preceding day, and when she 
returned she found that some one had entered her 
house in her absence and broken open her box, 
which she left safely locked under her bed, and 
had carried off some of her clothes and all her 
money. " I am sorry for your loss, Letitia," I 
said. " I dare say the loss of your clothes will be 
a great trouble ; but as you have never, in all 
these years, been rich enough to pay the dollar 
you promised toward building the school, your loss 
in money cannot be very great/' " O minister/' she 
said, " I wish I had given you that dollar, and then, 
perhaps, this trouble would not have come upon 
me ; me very wrong, minister, not to pay the 
dollar." 

" I think with you, Letitia, that you have been 
very wrong not to fulfill your promise, and to 
spend so much money as you must have done upon 
expensive articles of dress, scarcely becoming one 
in your condition of life, I have often looked 
upon your gay, flaunting attire with pain and sor- 
row. If you have lost only some of your useless 
finery I do not think there is much cause for you 
to break your heart about it." 

" O, but minister ! dem take away all my 
money." " Well, what amount had you in your 
box ? " I inquired, expecting to hear her name 
some trifling sum. " Dem rob me of eighty-three 
dollars, minister," a sum equal, in sterling money 



The Broken Promise. 545 

to seventeen pounds fifteen shillings and tenpence. 
Surprised to hear that she was in possession of 
such a sum after lavishing so much as I knew she 
must have done on the decoration of her person, 
I asked her how she had managed to save so much. 
Then she informed me that she had reared a cow, 
and sold it for forty dollars, as it was a good one 
for yielding milk ; and she had sold two calves 
and several pigs that she had reared. 

In this way she had, in the course of several years, 
amassed the sum specified, besides the amount 
spent in articles of dress, and three dollars which 
she had withdrawn from her store before taking 
her departure to the city, for the purpose of add- 
ing something to her cherished store of finery. 
Poor Letitia wept very bitterly as I pointed out to 
her the dissimulation and wrong of which she had 
been guilty ; keeping back from the fulfillment of 
the promise she had given, while for years she had 
a considerable sum of money hoarded in her box, 
from which she might have taken the dollar and 
scarcely have missed it. I agreed with her, that 
if she had done what was right and just when she 
had it in her power to do so, the Lord, who 
ordereth all things in heaven and earth, and with- 
out whose permission not a sparrow falleth to the 
ground, might not have allowed this great loss to 
come upon her. 

I further pointed out to her that she had lost 
all her money, and still she owed the dollar which 
she had promised to the Church. The weeping 
girl declared that she would pay it as soon as she 



546 Romance Without Fiction. 

possibly could. She had not done so when I 
transferred my charge in that island to a succes- 
sor, for I do not think she was in circumstances 
to do so. Whether she has since paid it I am not 
able to say ; but I believe Letitia went away that 
evening more alive than she had ever been to the 
evil of covetousness, and more deeply impressed 
with the force of those words of inspired wisdom 
of which I reminded her : " There is that scatter- 
ed}, and yet increaseth; and there is that with- 
holdeth more than is meet, and it tendeth to 
poverty." 



The Murdered Child. 547 



XXIX. 

The Murdered Child. 

The voice of blood 
Passes heaven's gates, ev'n ere the crimson flood 
Sinks through the greensward !— Mrs. Hemaks. 

JHROUGH the low, flat colony of British 
V$^ Guiana, on the northern coast of South 
America, several broad, majestic rivers flow 
into the ocean, tinging its waters, to a distance of 
nearly a hundred miles, with the vast quantities 
of light, earthy matter they bear down in their 
bosoms from the far interior of the wide-stretching 
continent. The Essequibo, which separates the 
county to which it gives its name from the neigh- 
boring county of Demerara, is more than twenty 
miles wide upon the coast, where travelers from 
the one county to the other have to cross it. It 
has several islands of considerable extent at its 
mouth ; one of them, scarcely under cultivation 
at all, containing as large an area as the produc- 
tive island of Barbadoes, which exports some years 
from sixty to seventy thousand hogsheads of sugar. 
Three of these mighty streams flow through the 
colony — the Essequibo, the Demerara, and the 
Berbice — each giving its name to a division of 
the " magnificent province," as it has not unaptly 

been designated. 

35 



54^ Romance Without Fiction. 

Between these rivers are other streams, which 
are called creeks, some of them as wide as the 
Thames at London. Unlike the thick and muddy 
water of the rivers, that in the creeks is transpar- 
ent, though dark as strong, clear coffee, and soft 
and pleasant to the taste. The creeks receive the 
drainings of the vast savannas and wide-spreading 
forests of the continent after the rains that fall in 
those equatorial regions, and the water, being 
stained by the roots and herbage with which it is 
brought in contact, receives the dark tinge that 
makes it appear, when gathered in a body, almost 
black. The scenery on the creeks is grand and 
picturesque in the extreme. The dark, clear, 
placid waters form a perfect mirror, reflecting 
every object on the banks and overhead so viv- 
idly and clearly that it is difficult to distinguish at 
a short distance where the shadow and the sub- 
stance meet. The massive forest trees on either 
side, the growth of many centuries, frequently in- 
termingle their vast umbrageous branches eighty 
or a hundred feet above the surface of the creek, 
forming a beautiful archway for miles, and afford- 
ing to the traveler a perfect screen from the 
scorching rays of the vertical sun ; and as he casts 
his eyes over the edge of the canoe into the dark, 
transparent stream, he seems to be looking down, 
through a forest of leaves and branches, into un- 
fathomable depths, 

" Tinged with a blue of heavenly dye, 
And starr'd with sparkling gold/' 



The Murdered Child. 549 

The perfection of sylvan beauty and grandeur 
is to be met with in rowing or paddling on the 
creeks in the interior of Guiana. The water is 
smooth as glass, unmarked by a ripple, except 
where a monster alligator, disturbed in his slum- 
bers, rolls lazily from the bank with a heavy 
plunge into his favorite element ; or an immense 
camoodie snake (the South American boa-con- 
strictor) is seen pursuing his sinuous course, near 
the surface, from one bank to the other. In those 
secluded retreats these creatures abound in the 
waters, and, being seldom molested, grow to for- 
midable proportions. Numerous birds of splendid 
plumage may be seen flitting from tree to tree, 
while multitudes of butterflies and moths, of un- 
usual size, and bright with all the hues of the 
rainbow, pursue their erratic course. Right over- 
head, not unfrequently, troops of baboons and 
monkeys are to be seen gamboling amid the lofty 
branches, secure from the ravenous creatures of 
various kinds that roam the forest underneath 
them in search of prey. Flocks of macaws, glit- 
tering in varied dazzling colors, with their hoarse 
screamings, and immense multitudes of parrots, 
generally sweeping through the air in pairs, shriek- 
ing their peculiar monotone, disturb the deep 
silence of the forest glades. 

Occasionally the traveler meets a fleet of Indian 
corioles, (or canoes,) filled with the swarthy long- 
haired aborigines of the land, the chief men, it 
may be, dignified with the splendors of a cotton 
shirt; but all the rest, men, women, and children, 



5 So Romance Without Fiction. 

utterly nude, or with only an apron of a few inches 
square to serve as an apology for dress. These 
wild children of the forest are paddling down to 
the cultivated portions of the colony on the coast 
to dispose of the grass and cotton hammocks, bas- 
kets, and fans which they have learned to manu- 
facture, or to barter the casareep, obtained from 
the poisonous cassava, for the gunpowder and lead 
they have learned to use in the chase. The ab- 
rupt appearance of these savage denizens of the 
far-stretching South American wilds awakens pain- 
ful emotions in the breast of the Christian traveler, 
who remembers the sad fate of the Indians found 
in the West Indies by Columbus. Numerous 
tribes and nations of the aborigines are scattered 
over this vast continent, retaining unbroken their 
barbarous habits, and scarcely reached at all by 
the civilizing and elevating influences of Chris- 
tianity. 

On the smaller creeks, such as the Madowinie 
and the Camoonie, which flow into the Demerara 
river, the canoe of the traveler pushes its way 
through vast beds of the magnificent Victoria Regia, 
whose broad, bright green leaves lie placidly float- 
ing upon the surface of the stream, together with 
the splendid white flower that blooms upon it, 
whose slender stalk, always proportioned to the 
depth of the water, is just of sufficient length to 
permit its pure graceful beauty to repose on the 
bosom of the dark water which is its natural rest- 
ing place. 

On the banks of one of the largest of these 



The Murdered Child. 551 

darkly flowing creeks, at no great distance from 
the sea, there is a large cattle farm, named Broom- 
lands, occupied by a colored gentleman and his 
family, where the ministers of Christ, no matter of 
what denomination, always find a cheerful wel- 
come, and receive abundant hospitality. The 
farm itself is of large extent, devoted to the rear- 
ing of horned stock, of which there are fourteen 
or fifteen hundred belonging to it. These graze, 
in common with the stock of many other farms, 
on the immense savannas which, like the prairies 
of the northern continent before the white man 
invaded their solitude, lie embosomed in the dense 
forests stretching across from the Atlantic to the 
Pacific coast. The prowling tiger of South Amer- 
ica not unfrequently makes a descent upon these 
herds when driven by hunger to approach the 
coast, and commits great depredations, until the 
inhabitants rise and hunt him to his death. The 
formidable alligator and the boa-constrictor lurk- 
ing in the trenches and canals by which the farms 
are intersected in all directions, to. serve the two- 
fold purpose of road and drainage, make sad havoc 
among the smaller stock, the pigs and goats and 
poultry with which these farms abound. 

The farm-house at Broomlands is pleasantly 
situated, and surrounded by meadows. These are 
divided, not by walls or fences, but by deep 
trenches filled with water, and with banks consid- 
erably raised, commonly called dams, to prevent 
the trenches overflowing and covering the mead- 
ows in the wet seasons. Sporting upon low-lying 



552 Romance Without Fiction. 

fields are often to be seen the stork, and the crane, 
and the flamingo, with numerous flocks of other 
wild fowl, that delight in marshy or watery places, 
many of them exhibiting a magnificent plumage. 

Sometimes, as the family sit in the cool, broad 
piazza of the farm-house enjoying the balmy 
evening breeze, the loud screaming of an unfortu- 
nate pig, at a little distance, announces that while 
wandering on the dam, a monster boa-constrictor, 
stealing softly and silently from the watef, has 
pounced upon the luckless swine, and his bones 
are being crushed within the powerful folds of the 
serpent, which, with almost the rapidity of light- 
ning, has enwrapped him in his fatal coils. At 
another time, the loud angry splashing of the water 
not far off tells of a fierce conflict between an 
alligator and a camoodie snake, which have met 
while prowling in the trenches of the farm in search 
of prey. 

On the writer's first visit to the farm, in 1861, he 
received the present of a snake's skin, about 
twenty feet in length, which he found nailed up to 
dry on one of the out-buildings. A few days 
before, this creature had seized a hog in its deadly 
embrace on one of the dams near the house. The 
proprietor, hearing the scream of the dying animal, 
and understanding the cause, took his rifle, and 
hastening in the direction whence the sound pro- 
ceeded, found the serpent in the act of quietly 
crushing his victim to death. With its prey in its 
coils the serpent is comparatively harmless and 
defenseless, So that, stepping up near to the head 



The Murdered Child. 553 

of the monster, he sent a rifle ball through its head, 
too late, however, to save the unfortunate pig, 
which had been crushed out of all shape by its 
terrible destroyer. At a subsequent visit, while 
sitting, on a pleasant afternoon, in the piazza, the 
water in one of the broader trenches at a little dis- 
tance suddenly became greatly agitated. On pro- 
ceeding to the spot it was found that a deadly 
struggle was going on between an alligator and a 
boa-constrictor, both of large size. The conflict 
was fierce, but not protracted. It terminated 
shortly after we reached the place. The muddy- 
condition of the water rendered it difficult to as- 
certain which was the victor ; but probably it was 
the serpent, as they finally sunk out of sight, the 
alligator firmly held, and seemingly almost help- 
less, in the folds of its powerful enemy. 

The farm, under the skillful management of Mr. 
J., its proprietor, abounds with all that can con- 
tribute to the comfort of a family, and is a source 
of considerable wealth. When it came into the 
hands of its present owner it had, through neglect 
and want of energetic management, become almost 
a wilderness, and the large herds of cattle that had 
formerly grazed in its meadows were fast dwindling 
away. After the death of its former proprietor, a 
Dutchman, the farm passed into the hands of his 
widow, who did the best she could with it and the 
family of small fatherless children that were left to 
her care. But those upon whom she relied in her 
widowhood afforded her little effectual aid or coun- 
sel, and the estate, a valuable one in itself, was 



554 Romance Without Fiction. 

fast sinking to ruin. The trenches, left to them- 
selves, and never cleaned out to allow of free 
drainage of the land, were becoming choked up ; 
and the fine meadows, soon covered with bush 
where vegetation is so rank, were rapidly changing 
into a vast morass. The buildings of the farm, all 
of wood, were becoming dilapidated through neg- 
lect of needful repairs, or falling into ruin through 
the destructive ravages of the wood ant. A short 
time would have seen the widow and family with- 
out a home; and, though surrounded with 
hundreds of acres of the most fertile land in 
the world, sunk in poverty and distress. At 
this juncture she wisely determined to commit 
herself and children to the care of the husband a 
gracious Providence threw in her way ; and, under 
the judicious management of Mr. J., the wilderness 
became an earthly paradise, the abode of peace 
and piety,. and comfort and plenty. 

A new, substantial, well-built house of three 
stories, commodious and furnished with all the 
appliances of elegant comfort, rose upon the site 
of the old decayed farm-dwelling, where daily the 
sweet sounds of the morning and evening song of 
praise, with a melodeon accompaniment, told of 
the God-fearing family and the domestic altar; 
and the lively tunes of the well-tuned piano spoke 
of religious cheerfulness dispelling the gloom of 
loneliness, and testifying that wisdom's ways are 
every-where ways of pleasantness. With the 
trenches cleared, and the meadows drained, and 
fields and plantain walks brought into good culti- 



The Murdered Child. 555 

vation, the farm, under the skillful care and far- 
seeing management of its new master, soon became 
one of the most productive and valuable on the 
coast. Those who wish to enjoy all kinds of trop- 
ical fruit, and vegetables of the finest quality, and 
in the highest state of perfection, may find them 
at Broomlands. There, too, under the watchful 
care of the matron of the farm, notwithstanding 
the considerable levy made upon her young broods 
by snakes and alligators, some of the finest com- 
mon poultry, ducks and geese and turkeys and 
guinea fowl, are reared that are produced in the 
colony. Turtle, and fresh and salt water fish, 
venison, and varieties of wild fowl, are easily pro- 
curable ; and honey and sugar and milk abourfd. 
Fine coffee grows upon the farm, and thousands of 
cocoa-nut trees, valuable as beautiful, planted with 
judicious foresight by the present owner, are grow- 
ing up about the farm, to lend to it additional 
grace and beauty, and yield in a few years an 
ample revenue, each tree putting forth its fruit 
about every month, being calculated to yield 
at least five dollars per annum to its owner. 
Bunches of luscious grapes, inclosed in muslin 
bags to protect them from the marabunta wasp 
and the numerous flocks of birds that love to 
feast upon them, hang from a capacious grape- 
arbor in the well-inclosed garden. And here are 
to be found, throughout the whole year of per- 
petual summer, in full bloom, many varieties of 
rare plants and flowers native to this equatorial 
region, mingling with European exotics, that, with 



556 Romance Without Fiction. 

kindliness equal to their sweetness and beauty, 
have adapted themselves to the genial climate, and 
flourish luxuriantly. 

Many times have I visited this pleasant place 
and pleasant family ; sometimes to preach, or to 
attend the missionary meeting, in the village chapel 
on the coast, about a mile distant from the farm, 
where the Mahaicony creek discharges its black 
mass of waters into the Atlantic Ocean. In the 
neat sanctuary, erected and kept in repair largely 
through the liberality of the Broomlands family, 
Mr. J. himself, in the absence of the circuit minis- 
ter, often officiates, in the capacity of local 
preacher, an office for which he is qualified by the 
possession of a well-cultured mind and extensive 
reading. At other times the object of my pleas- 
ant visits has been to avail myself of a few days' 
relaxation from the exhaustive toil of a station 
near the equator, and enjoy the delights of a pic- 
nic excursion in the Broomlands' large boat, built 
expressly for such purposes, up the wide creek, 
ninety or a hundred miles into the interior. Here, 
in the primeval forest, in huts reared under the 
shade of the giant trees, spreading their lowest 
branches sixty or eighty feet above us, we could 
sling our hammocks and rest with little fear that 
prowling tigers or dangerous serpents would ven- 
ture within the circle of fires kept constantly burn- 
ing during the darkness all around our encamp- 
ment. 

Unbounded kindness and hospitality always 
awaited the minister of Christ at Broomlands, 



The Murdered Child. 557 

heightened by the gentlemanly courtesy of the 
master of the house, and the Christian sweetness 
and excellent housewifery of his partner, whose 
kind heart ever finds its chief joy in ministering 
comfort and happiness to others. Both of them, 
by a swarthy complexion, show that the blood of 
Africa, or of the aboriginal Indians, flows in their 
veins, and, by the constant exhibition of those 
amiable and noble qualities which impart luster 
to social life, prove that a white skin is not essen- 
tial to the highest degrees and development of 
moral excellence. 

Mrs. J.'s first -family, two boys and two girls, 
have, through the improvement of the estate by a 
conscientious husband and stepfather, been fa- 
vored with superior educational advantages. One 
of the boys, before reaching ripe manhood, has 
sunk to the grave, and one of the girls has been 
married to a medical practitioner. Two younger 
children, a boy and a girl, the fruit of the second 
marriage, enliven this cheerful Christian home, 
which exerts an influence for good upon many 
homes of the surrounding neighborhood. 

But dark is the cloud of sorrow, though unseen, 
which is about to break upon this peaceful, pros- 
perous homestead, and extinguish some of the 
best and brightest hopes of the family. The chil- 
dren are respectively about nine and seven years 
of age. Upon the youngest, a bright, intelligent 
boy of indomitable activity and energy, are con- 
centrated the most precious hopes of both parents. 
They delight in the thought that, with the aid of 



558 Romance Without Fiction. 

that liberal education they are preparing to bestow 
upon him, he will, in due time, become a well- 
qualified agent for the Lord's service in preaching 
the ever-blessed Gospel, a work to which his young 
mind, already moved by gracious impulses, seems 
to have a bent from the earliest days of its dawn- 
ing intelligence. How would those parent hearts 
be riven with anguish could they foresee the trag- 
edy that is to desolate and blast that pleasing 
prospect ! 

There is among the servants of the household 
a low-browed, ill-favored negro girl, bearing the 
name of Molly James, whose countenance is the 
index of a sullen, malignant disposition. The 
vicious character of the girl has been her chief 
recommendation to the kind, loving heart of the 
matron at the head of the house, who has taken 
her into employment from a neighboring cottage, 
solely with the view of being able to do her good, 
by bringing the evil-minded one under the soften- 
ing, ameliorating influences that pervade a Chris- 
tian household, and imparting to her the benefit of 
religious instruction and training. Her chief oc- 
cupation in the family of her benefactress is to 
perform such little offices for the children as she 
is capable of, and much of her time is spent in 
sharing their sports. Molly is not only observed 
to be of an unamiable, ferocious disposition, but 
she is an incorrigible pilferer, and though supplied 
with food without stint, takes every opportunity of 
laying her mistress's more private stores of dain- 
ties under contribution. 



The Murdered Child. 559 

The little Eddy, the pride and darling of the 
house, has more than once informed his mother of 
these depredations on the part of Molly, commit- 
ted when he was present, and thus awakened against 
himself on her part a strongly vindictive feeling; 
and when in rough play Molly, in common with his 
own sister, has been somewhat more rudely han- 
dled by the romping, lively boy than she approved, 
she has been observed casting toward him looks 
of cutting, bitter hatred, and heard to mutter words 
that savored of revenge. But none for a moment 
dreamed of the deadly purposes secretly cherished 
in her breast. 

It is a pleasant day in August, 1864, like many 
that have preceded it, and in a cloudless sky the 
sun is declining to the west, his slanting rays, de- 
prived of much of their fierceness, making exer- 
cise in the open air a source^ of enjoyment. It is 
about five o'clock when the girl Molly is seen 
passing through the back gate leading to the 
stock pen. A few minutes afterward Eddy, in 
wild hilarity, is also seen scampering in the same 
direction, with his toy whip flourishing in his 
hand. And that is the last that is seen of him in 
life, except by his murderer, for shortly afterward, 
probably only a few brief minutes,- that vigorous, 
promising young life is extinguished suddenly by 
a violent death. • 

When the shades of the evening are closing in 
Eddy is called for at the tea table, but the boy is 
nowhere to be found. His name is loudly shouted 
in all directions by the domestics, and there is no 



560 Romance Without Fiction. 

response; but Molly is seen approaching from one 
of the trenches behind the house with her clothes 
all wet, as if she had been in the trench, or her 
frock had been newly washed. On being ques- 
tioned about the child, she declares that she does 
not know where he is, but she had seen him not 
long before passing through the front gate. Seri- 
ous alarm is now excited in the family by the 
unaccountable disappearance of the child, and 
persons are sent to examine the trenches in the 
direction whither Molly reports him to have gone. 
Some laborers at work about the front gate are 
questioned, and they all affirm that they have not 
seen him, and that he cannot have passed that 
way. Attention is then directed to the back of 
the house, and- after a short search, a loud, bitter 
outcry announces that some painful discovery has 
been made. The agonized parents rush to the 
spot, and there, overwhelmed with horror, they 
behold the dead body of their child near the pig 
pen, stretched upon some tall grass growing in an 
old filled up trench. He is lying upon his back, 
and except the face, which appears to have been 
washed, covered with black mud of a kind not at 
all corresponding with the spot on which the body 
has been found. After the lifeless form has been 
removed to the house, and a medical man sent for, 
further examination of the scene of death shows a 
trail along which the body has been dragged for 
some distance, and ending at the place where it is 
too evident the cruel deed has been done, and the 
child hurled out of life by violent and relentless 



The Murdered Child. 561 

hands. There, in a spot covered with thick black 
mud, the partly dried, offensive drainings of the 
pig-pen, as the marks clearly show, the poor boy 
has breathed out his young life in agony under the 
pressure of malignant cruelty. There is no wound 
upon the tender body, but bruised marks about 
the head. He has died from suffocation, and this 
effect could only have been produced by the face 
having been violently pressed down in the foul, 
putrid mud, so as to prevent respiration until all 
the functions of life were stopped. 

Who can describe the grief of the heart-stricken 
parents, the overwhelming anguish which crushes 
them down to find their precious child, the dar- 
ling of the house, so bright and gay and sportive, 
so full of promise in the vigor of his physical and 
mental development, thus snatched in a moment 
from their embraces, and in a manner so revolting 
and so cruel ? Ah, it may be there has been too 
much of idolatry in the absorbing love they have 
lavished upon the handsome boy. Or He, whose 
all-searching eye looks through the future, and 
sees all possibilities, and all tendencies and re- 
sults, may have seen how those fine qualities of 
the child, which they admired and loved so ar- 
dently, would become ruinous snares and sources 
of danger in the pathway of life, and in answer to 
their prayers for the eternal welfare of the object 
of their solicitude, and in very tenderness and love 
to him and them, he may have taken him away 
from the evil to come. What we know not now 
we shall know hereafter. . But who can have 



562 Romance Without Fiction. 

done the wicked deed ? It is not, alas ! difficult 
to conjecture. Who but the sullen, vicious girl, 
whose dark, vindictive scowls and muttered threats 
have been, unhappily, too little regarded? Who 
but she in whose company the boy was last seen, 
and who endeavored to mislead those who were in 
search of him when he was first missed ? It is 
now remembered that Molly James was seen com- 
ing from the trench, not far from the place where 
the body was discovered, as soon as the alarm was 
given. The wet frock, also, as if newly washed, 
that also is remembered, and there can be little 
doubt that she is the guilty one by whose wicked 
hands the boy has been done to death. She is 
placed in custody, maintaining a sullen silence, 
and her countenance still retaining the angry 
scowl imparted to it by the fierce malignant pas- 
sions to which" she has given such fatal indulgence. 
Not a shadow of doubt as to the perpetrator of 
the crime remains when, on the following day, all 
the incidents associated with the murder and its 
discovery are brought together before the coro- 
ner's jury in the presence of the girl. All of them 
point to her and to none other, and the unani- 
mous verdict of the jury sends her to the grand 
court of assize at George Town for trial on the 
charge of willful murder. 

Three months have passed, and the court is 
sitting. An able and impartial judge, Chief- 
Justice Beaumont, presides. A respectable and 
intelligent jury is impaneled. A large concourse 
of persons is assembled ; for the child-murder has 



The Murdered Child. 563 

awakened an intense feeling of interest throughout 
the colony ; and Molly James stands at the bar 
arraigned onthe capital charge. Two days are de- 
voted to a most careful investigation of the case. 
The persecuting counsel exhibit far more of com- 
miseration than of harshness toward the accused. 
The judge, while exercising all his eminent ability 
to set the facts fairly and fully before the jury, 
shows tenderness toward the child-criminal be- 
fore him. An ab.le barrister, retained by the 
court to defend the prisoner gratuitously, sub- 
jects every witness to a rigid cross-examination, 
and seeks to turn all the facts, as far as legal skill" 
and subtilty can do so, to the advantage of his 
client. But only one conclusion can, with truth 
and justice, be arrived at. The girl Molly James 
is " guilty of the murder." Such is the unanimous 
verdict of the jury. The chief-justice assumes 
the fatal black cap ; and after a touching address 
to the criminal, which draws tears from all eyes 
in the courts, and is often interrupted by his own 
emotions, he pronounces the terrible sentence of 
the law, which is to consign her to an early and 
ignominious death. 

The verdict and the sentence were just. The 
writer knew the girl very well, from his frequent 
intercourse with the family at Broomlands, and 
had many interviews with her in the prison before 
and after trial, seeking to awaken her to a right 
sense of her guilt and danger. Of a low, sullen, 
brutal nature, it was difficult to arouse her moral 
faculties in any degree, or call forth any manifes- 

36 



564 Romance Without Fiction. 

tation of moral sensibility. Old sinners with 
seared conscience and indurated heart he has 
often fallen in with ; but one so young, and yet so 
obtuse and hardened, he never met before. Yet 
even that callous nature was not beyond the in- 
fluence of religious feeling. She quailed when 
the thought of standing before God and facing the 
solemnities of the eternal world was placed before 
her, and she wept in prayer and read the holy 
Scriptures after she was sentenced to die. Even 
before her trial, she acknowledged to the writer 
that she " killed Master Eddy ; " but it was not 
until she was under sentence, when concealment 
could avail nothing, that she confessed all the 
details of the murder. She had for a long time 
resolved to kill the boy because he " told upon 
her" and she watched for an opportunity. On 
the afternoon of the murder, with dark and 
deadly purposes in her heart, she asked him to go 
and play at the pig-pen, for she knew no one was 
likely to see them there. He refused, but she 
went, expecting that he would follow her, and in 
a few minutes she saw him come galloping toward 
her with his whip. He struck her playfully with* 
the whip as he came up, and she rushed upon 
him at once, and with all the strength she could 
exert, struck him to the ground and fell upon 
him. Both of them fell into the thick mud 
flowing from the pig-pen ; and, to prevent his 
crying out, she held down his face in the dirt till 
he ceased to struggle ; and then she sat upon his 
head, and afterward stood upon him, keeping 



The Murdered Child. 565 

him down until she thought he was dead. He 
was never able to utter one cry, for she " held 
him down so hard." Thinking some one might 
come to the pig-pen, she dragged the body away 
from the place where she killed him to the old 
trench, and placed it among the grass where it was 
found, intending when it was dark, and no one 
w r as about, to drag it to the large trench and throw 
it in the water, that it might be supposed he was 
accidentally drowned while playing near the water. 
It had not occurred to her that the child would be 
missed so soon, and that there would be an alarm 
and a search made for him in all directions, and 
thus her purpose would be defeated. So it often 
is with evil-doers. A slight defect in the well-laid 
plan — a trivial oversight — furnishes the clew which 
leads to detection, and the foul deed and its perpe- 
trator, though covered, it is supposed, with impene- 
trable darkness, are laid open to the light of day. 
The child-murderer was suffered to escape the 
extreme penalty of the law because of her youth. 
Several ministers, of whom the writer was one, and 
others, thought it right, on this ground, to petition 
the executive for a mitigation of the capital sen- 
tence, as there was something revolting in the idea 
of a girl only fourteen years of age dying upon the 
gallows. Sir Francis Hincks, the governor-gen- 
eral, admitting the force of such a plea, respited 
the criminal shortly before the time appointed for 
her execution, and she now lingers out a wretched 
crime-stained existence in one of the prisons of 
British Guiana. 



566 Romance Without Fiction. 



XXX. 

The Broken Heart. 

Our world is rife 
With grief and sorrow ! all that we would prop, 
Or would be propped with, falls ! When shall the ruin stop ? 

Brainakd. 

JHE leaders' meeting at Coke Chapel is the 
most formidable of the kind I have met with 
in Methodism. Between one and two hun- 
dred class-leaders were accustomed to assemble 
every Friday afternoon at four o'clock to transact 
the financial and disciplinary business of the huge 
society connected with that place of worship. The 
society comprised a body of communicants amount- 
ing to between two and three thousand. 

The date of oar tale carries us back to the year 
1839. The original chapel, obtained and adapted 
to missionary purposes by Dr. Coke, has been 
taken down, and a new, handsome building is in 
course of erection on the site of the glorious old 
sanctuary in which so many thousands of souls 
have been born to eternal life. The public serv- 
ices, meanwhile, are conducted in the new school- 
room adjoining, to which an extensive wooden 
shed has been attached, to accommodate a portion 
of the congregation. 

It is in the school-room that the business of the 



The Broken Heart. 567 

leaders' meeting is going on. The proceedings 
are about to be closed, when a negro boy, covered 
with the indications of a long and hasty journey, 
enters the room, and respectfully hands a letter to 
the presiding minister, to whom it is addressed. 
The letter, like its bearer, exhibits marks of a long 
journey, and has evidently passed through hands 
not altogether immaculate. The recipient of the 
letter glances at the direction before breaking the 
seal ; which he does very hastily and with some 
anxiety, for in the corner of the envelope he has 
read the ominous words, " With all possible 
haste." 

The contents of the epistle are brief, but start- 
ling ; for they convey the intelligence that Mr. B., 
a minister occupying an important official position 
in connection with the educational department of 
the mission, is dangerously ill at Stewart s Town. 
The doctors are of the opinion that it is a severe 
attack of yellow fever ; and the symptoms being 
of an alarming character, it is considered advisable 
that Mrs. B., who had been left at home with the 
family, should, without any avoidable loss of time, 
proceed to Stewart's Town, which the sufferer 
himself also earnestly desires. The writer of the 
letter, who is one of the missionaries stationed on 
the north side of the island, expresses in a post- 
script his own gloomy apprehensions as to the re- 
sult of the attack, and urges that not a moment be 
lost in sending Mrs. B. on, or she may be too late 
to see her beloved busband again alive. 

Mr. B,, the subject of the present sketch, has 



568 Romance Without Fiction. 

been in the island only two or three years. Hav- 
ing been in the ministry a few years, and possessing 
talents far above mediocrity, he has accepted the 
invitation of the Wesleyan missionary committee 
to undertake the supervision and direction of the 
educational interests of the Jamaica mission, 
which was now very greatly extended, in conse- 
quence of the removal of those restrictions which 
slavery heretofore imposed upon the education of 
the now emancipated negroes. His wife, with 
four lovely children, increased to five since their 
arrival in the isles of the west, has accompanied 
him to the scene of his labors. Some eight days 
ago he departed in vigorous health on one of the 
long tours of inspection that the duties of his office 
required. To the grief of several of* his brethren, 
Mr. B. is very careless about adopting those pre- 
cautions that are essential to the maintenance of 
good health in a tropical climate. It is therefore 
with more of regret and alarm than of surprise 
that they receive the intelligence of the dangerous 
illness which has come upon him. 

After a brief consultation on the part of the 
three ministers present at the leaders' meeting 
when the express messenger made his appearance, 
it is agreed that the senior of them shall undertake 
the task of breaking the sad news to Mrs. B., and 
prepare her for the journey ; and the younger shall 
immediately make the necessary arrangements to 
accompany her to the bedside of her afflicted hus- 
band. It is a heavy blow to the loving and de- 
voted wife, who is attached to her husband by the 



The Broken Heart. 569 

strongest ties of affection, and whose very life is 
bound up in him, when she hears of the illness 
that renders her presence needful at the sick-bed. 
In heart-crushing sorrow, and with many gloomy 
forebodings, she addresses herself to the sad task 
of making ready for the journey, leaving her pre- 
cious little ones to the care of one of the mission- 
aries' wives, who readily undertakes the charge. 

There are no public conveyances in Jamaica by 
which travelers can swiftly proceed wherever bus- 
iness or pleasure may call them. It is only by a 
vehicle hired for the purpose, to be drawn by the 
same horses over the whole of the eighty miles 
that separate her from her loved and suffering 
partner, that she can proceed to Stewart's Town, 
where he lies. The necessary arrangements are 
made during the evening, and at the earliest dawn 
on the following morning (Saturday) an open gig, 
with a pair of stout ponies attached in what is 
called outrigger fashion, so that the animals can 
run abreast of each other, receive the travelers 
and the little luggage they are able to carry with 
them. A negro boy, mounted upon another pony, 
rides after them to serve in the capacity of a 
groom. The route lies over Mount Diabola, and 
the road is only made practicable by slanting along 
the side of the towering mountain. This involves 
an ascent of some miles, exceedingly fatiguing to 
horses that have to drag over it a loaded vehicle. 
The day is far spent, and the horses are weary and 
requiring rest, when they arrive at Trafalgar, the 
present residence of the missionary in charge of 



570 Romance Without Fiction. 

Beechamville, a mission station beautifully situated 
in the parish of St. Ann, and close to the road 
along which they have to travel. It is not sur- 
prising that the horses are jaded, for they 
have achieved a distance of about fifty-two or 
fifty-three miles over very rough and very heavy 
roads. 

Resting there for the night, where both them- 
selves and their horses are bountifully provided 
for, at daylight on Sunday morning the travelers 
resume their journey. Their route lies, as it did 
yesterday, through some of the most beautiful 
scenery in the world. But, however the mission- 
ary admires it who is driving the vehicle, the poor 
sorrow-stricken lady at his side has no eye to 
observe it. The beauties of nature wear no 
charms for her, for a heavy load presses upon her 
heart. Her whole attention, her whole thought, is 
occupied with the loved sufferer to whose aid she 
is hastening ; and in perfect silence, as she did the 
whole of yesterday, she goes on her way, replying 
only in monosyllables to any question addressed to 
her. They have rested for half an hour under the 
shade of some trees overshadowing the road, as 
there is neither tavern nor missionary station 
where they can halt for refreshment. It is near 
mid-day when, as they are slowly descending a 
sloping road between Brown's Town and Stewart's 
Town, and not more than two or three miles from 
the end of their journey, they meet a traveler on 
horseback. They have seen him in the distance ; 
and as he draws near he is recognized by the mis- 



The Broken Heart, 571 

sionary in the vehicle as a Mr. C, the Wesleyan 
school-teacher at the village through which they 
have recently passed. How does the missionary's 
heart sink within him as he observes a streamer 
of apparently fresh black crape hanging from the 
white panama hat worn by the teacher ! His com- 
panion in the gig has observed it too, and with 
startling energy, rising to her feet, she eagerly 
inquires of the stranger if he can tell how Mr. B. 
is. The person thus addressed is greatly taken 
aback by the question, and at once guesses who 
the inquirer is. Before he can recover his self-pos- 
session he has communicated the intelligence that 
Mr. B. died on Saturday, the day before, at mid- 
day, and he, Mr. C, was just returning home from 
the funeral. 

The unhappy lady, who has partly risen to a 
standing position in the gig, suddenly realizing the 
mournful truth, gives utterance to a piercing 
sound, between a shriek and a groan, that thrills 
the very souls of the hearers, and sinks down at 
once into her seat, leaning helplessly against her 
traveling companion. She does not faint, neither 
is there a tear in her eye. She seems as if the 
shock had turned her into stone. The eyes, wide 
open, seem fixed on vacancy, and every feature is 
rigid as if with the coldness of death. Her travel- 
ing companion, himself almost choking with grief, 
endeavors to address to her such words of con- 
dolence and sympathy as he is capable of uttering. 
She appears not to hear any thing that is spoken. 
It is in vain that he urges her, for the sake of her 



572 Romance Without Fiction. 

beloved children, not to yield herself up to this 
bitter sorrow that has come upon her. Alarmed at 
the condition into which the terrible news so sud- 
denly imparted has thrown her, he urges on 
his jaded horses, and in little more than half an 
hour reaches the end of this painful journey. 

The unhappy widow is lifted from the vehicle 
and assisted into the mission house, but she is still 
in the same state. The appalling fact that she has 
come to see and to aid her husband, and found 
only his new-made grave, seems to have come like 
a thunder-clap upon her and to have paralyzed 
all her faculties. From the moment that the intel- 
ligence fell upon her ear she has uttered not a 
single word, she has shed no tear. A low, dis- 
tressing, plaintive moan, uttered at intervals, and 
most painful to listen to, alone indicates the 
fearful weight of grief that is pressing upon that 
poor bereaved heart. The All- merciful alone 
knows the throughts passing through that troubled 
mind, the heavy load of sorrow which presses 
down the soul. Several missionaries and their 
wives have assembled from mission stations around, 
and all that loving-kindness and tender sympathy 
can do to afford relief is done by those around her, 
who share, in some measure, the sorrow of this 
sudden and painful bereavement ; but the sufferer 
is insensible to it all. Stunned by the heavy blow 
that has smitten and crushed her, she seems to 
hear nothing that is said. No persuasion can pre- 
vail upon her to touch food of any kind. And all 
this time the fountain of her tears is sealed ; not a 



The Broken Heart. 573 

drop of moisture is to be seen in her eye or upon 
her cheek. It would indeed be a blessed relief if 
she could give expression to her anguish in a flood 
of tears. It comes at length. On the fourth day, 
when those around her begin to fear that reason 
will soon give way under the pressure of such a 
load of grief, an allusion to her fatherless children, 
and the necessity of her rousing herself from her 
prostration for their sakes, opens the sealed fount- 
ain. A plentiful flow of tears now relieves the 
pressure upon her heart, and she gradually awakens 
from the deadly stupor in which all her faculties 
have been held with such tenacious grasp. 

For a day or two she lies helplessly weeping upon 
the bed, overwhelmed with a sense of her loneli- 
ness and the great loss she and her five children 
have sustained, a loss that can never be repaired 
in this world. She is now prevailed upon to take 
a little food, and gradually acquires strength to 
pay a visit to the spot where the manly, handsome 
form she loved so well has found its last resting- 
place in the dust, hidden from her eyes until the 
resurrection morn. Heartrending is the scene as 
the desolate one, weeping tears of bitter agony, 
kneels and bows over the grave of the departed, as 
if she would embrace the very earth that covers 
the beloved remains. Gladly, most gladly, would 
she close her eyes on all earthly scenes, and be 
laid beside him there, if such were the heavenly 
Father's will. 

She has listened calmly, though with much 
weeping, to the details of those events of the last 



574 Romance Without Fiction. 

few days which have left her in the desolation of 
early widowhood. She learns from those who have 
been with him all through his sickness how he 
arrived there on Sunday apparently in his usual 
health, having engaged to preach missionary ser- 
mons on that day. He preached both morning 
and evening with much power and unction, taking 
for his text in the morning Matt, xi, 25, 26, and in 
the evening 2 Cor. vi, 1, 2. On Tuesday he began 
to feel unwell, and fever symptoms made their ap- 
pearance, which, it was hoped, a good night's rest 
and some simple medicine he was prevailed on to 
take would remove. On Wednesday he was no 
better, but rather worse. Still no apprehension 
was entertained that there was any thing in the 
attack more than the ordinrry fever of the country, 
which soon yields to the power of medicine. But 
the fever continued, and, on the following day> 
fears began to be entertained that it might prove 
to be the yellow fever — the " vomito prieto " — so 
often fatal here, especially to Europeans. The 
symptoms grew more and more unfavorable, and at 
midday it was considered advisable to send off an 
express, and request the wife to come to the bed-^ 
side of the sufferer, who, in his delirium, was con- 
tinually calling for his beloved Mary. The 
messenger was dispatched, charged to proceed 
with all possible speed, and to stop for nothing but 
the needful refreshment of the horse he rode, until 
he had placed the letter in the hands of the gen- 
tleman to whom it was addressed. That he was 
faithful to his charge was evident from the fact 



The Broken Heart. 575 

that in twenty-seven hours he had borne the mis- 
sive over the eighty miles that separated the 
sufferer from the loved one he longed to see. No 
improvement appeared as the hours wore awayT 
The medical man tried all the remedies approved 
by the practice of the faculty in this part of the 
world, but without effect. The fever steadily 
progressed, without any intermission, through all 
the following day. As the day declined, the 
changing hue of the skin, the blistering lips, and 
increasing delirium, banished all hope of recovery ; 
and it became too manifest that even before the 
wife could possibly reach that chamber of sorrow 
the fever-smitten occupant would have passed 
within the vail. He had at intervals spoken cheer- 
ing things of his sure trust and confidence in 
Jesus, and the bright hope of life and immortality 
that sustained and comforted his soul. " O," said 
he, " all is right ! There is Valentine Ward, my 
father, my grandfather, my little boy, all waiting 
for me. O, I have been the child of many prayers 
and many mercies !" Some reference having been 
made in prayer to " the dark valley of the shadow 
of death," he said, " O it is not dark ! all is light !■'' 
Another night of restless tossing on the part of the 
sufferer, and of painful anxiety on the part of those 
about him, glided slowly away, and the morning 
dawned upon a dying man. The last fatal symp- 
tom, the black vomit, came to herald the approach 
of the king of terrors, and about midday the spirit, 
trusting in and looking to Jesus as the friend of 
sinners, passed away to its homes in the skies. 



576 Romance Without Fiction. 

All that remained of the active, vigorous man who, 
five days ago, entered the house in lusty health 
and the prime of life, was a blighted, insensate 
fclod ef the earth. 

The poor widow derives some mournful satis- 
faction from learning these particulars of the clos- 
ing days of that precious life so suddenly broken 
off, but abundantly more from the assurance that 
he has died happy in the Lord, and that she shall 
meet the loved one again where the pang of sep- 
aration will be felt no more. But little does she 
or those about her anticipate how soon it will be, 
and that in a few weeks she will follow her hus- 
band to the better land, leaving the five fatherless 
children to an inheritance of orphanage and the 
cold charities of an unfeeling world. 

It is in silence and sadness that she suffers her- 
self to be conducted back over that weary mount- 
ain road to her now desolate home. By easy 
stages the travelers retrace the path they so re- 
cently traversed, not then without hope of finding 
at the end of the journey a relief from the anxiety 
and suspense which the affliction that called them 
from home had necessarily produced. Plunged 
in .grief and bathed in tears over all the lonesome 
way, the widowed lady encourages no attempt at 
conversation, and scarcely replies at all to any 
question or remark addressed to her. At the end 
of three days they arrive at the end of the journey. 
It is a mournful, heart-breaking scene when, ar- 
riving at home, she clasps, almost frantically, her 
little ones to her bosom, exclaiming, " My poor 



The Broken Heart. 577 

children ! " " my poor fatherless children ! " The 
hope has been fondly indulged that the sight of 
her lovely family, and the necessity of bestirring 
herself on their account, will break the spell "of 
her grief and restore the faculties which under its 
influence have sunk almost into a state of torpor. 
But this hope is not realized. Time appears to 
bring with it no healing, restoring influence. 
Days pass away. Week after week flies by, and 
there is no sign of improvement. The desolate 
one can do nothing but weep. By no beseeching 
or remonstrance can she be moved to feel any 
concern about domestic affairs, or even to take 
any interest in her children. Even the last born, 
whose life has not yet filled the circling year, as 
he climbs to his mother's knee and clasps his little 
arms around her neck, cannot now win a smile 
from that mother's lips who so lately fondled him 
with all a mother's transport and joy. 

In hope that benefit may result from change of 
scene and removal from the house, where every 
object serves but to keep fresh the memory of her 
great loss, she is prevailed upon, but very reluct- 
antly, by anxious, loving friends, to remove for a 
few days to the residence of one of the mission- 
aries. No good result is obtained from this ex- 
periment. The counsels and prayers of Christian 
ministers*, though always thankfully received, fail 
to relieve her in any degree from the morbid mel- 
ancholy that seems to have marked her for its 
prey. " My heart is broken ! my heart is broken ! " 
is the only response that can be obtained from her 



578 Romance Without Fiction. 

in reply to the friendly advices and remonstrances 
which they feel it their duty to address to her. 
Wringing her hands in hopeless grief, she moves 
about her chamber or throws herself prostrate 
upon the bed, giving utterance to low plaintive 
moans that might indeed well express the anguish 
of a breaking heart. 

Medical help is appealed to, the best that the 
city can afford, but the wound lies far beyond the 
reach of medicine. Time, that often heals the 
bruised spirit and alleviates the sharpest of human 
suffering, in this case brings no kind of ameliora- 
tion. On the contrary, as the days roll on more 
alarming symptoms are developed, and it becomes 
evident that the brain and nervous system have 
received a shock from which the worst results may 
be anticipated. Reason totters upon its throne, if 
it has not been utterly overthrown. The sufferer 
no longer pays the slightest attention to the chil- 
dren once so fondly beloved and tenderly cher- 
ished when they are brought to her to divert her 
from her grief. Her speech has become often 
wandering and incoherent. The most beloved 
and respected of former friends are now looked 
upon with antipathy, while muttered accusations 
escape from her of their having inflicted upon her 
some unexplained wrong. A strange, unnatural 
fire gleams in her eye, and the painful faqt can no 
longer be concealed that the poor widow is fast 
sinking into the condition of a maniac. It be- 
comes necessary to watch her every moment, and 
remove from her reach every article that might be 



The Broken Heart, 579 

capable in her hand of inflicting injury upon her- 
self or others, for a morbid anxiety for death is 
now among the symptoms that indicate the wreck 
of a beautiful and noble mind. 

It is well that the physical powers decay as the 
mind gradually sinks into ruin, which is not always 
the case. The shock received on that Sabbath 
morning, when she met the person returning from 
her husband's funeral, and suddenly received the 
sad news of his death, was a fatal one both to 
mind and body. It struck a fatal blow at her 
reason, and it broke her heart. Although the 
stunned energies had seemed to rally slightly 
after the lapse of a few days, yet she never for a 
moment became any , thing like her former self. 
And now she is manifestly sinking to the grave, a 
fact that gives dreary comfort to the friends around 
her, for it is a relief from the misery which threat- 
ens, of beholding the poor sufferer spending an 
unhappy, blighted existence under the restraint 
that would be necessary to prevent her doing in- 
jury to herself or others, or as the wretched inmate 
of a lunatic asylum. 

How sad is the change that grief has effected ! 
When first she set foot upon the sunny shores of 
Jamaica, happy in the devoted affection of a hus- 
band she almost adored, and surrounded by a 
troop of beautiful children, whose superior intelli- 
gence showed the judicious, loving care of a moth- 
er's guiding hand, she was radiant with a loveliness 
not often surpassed. A clear brunette, with a head 
of luxuriant jetty hair, the roses shone brightly 

37 



580 Romance Without Fiction. 

upon her cheeks, fresh from the tempered climate 
of Britain. A soft, mild beauty gleamed from her 
large, lustrous black eyes, where also shone the 
intelligence of a cultured mind, and attired with 
the elegant chasteness that a perfect taste and 
true piety inspire, she appeared a bright pattern 
of womanly loveliness — a wife and mother, whose 
virtues and excellences were well calculated to 
shed brightness and blessing in the Christian 
household. A few weeks have sufficed to work 
a most melancholy change. A deadly paleness 
has superseded the roses on her cheeks, and her 
features, sallow and sunken, have lost nearly all 
traces of their former beauty. All the light of 
intelligence has faded from the dark eye, which 
now only occasionally beams with the fitful wild- 
fire of insanity. Her beautiful arms have lost the 
finished^ graceful roundness of health, and the 
once symmetrical, elastic frame, wasted to little 
more than a skeleton, seems to indicate that the 
king of terrors is not far distant. 

And so it is. After three or four weeks* con- 
finement to her room, during which there has 
been no interval of perfect saneness, there are to 
be observed unmistakable indications that the 
end of this tragic history is at hand. The pallid 
hue of death has already overspread the counte- 
nance, the damps of the grave are on the brow, 
when, suddenly waking up from a light slumber 
into which she had sunk, there is again the light 
of intelligence in the languid eye. Turning to the 
good old nurse who has tended the sufferer with 



The Broken Heart. 581 

all a mother's care and love, and who is indeed a 
mother in Israel, the pious watcher at the death- 
bed of many a fever-stricken missionary and many 
a dying saint, the patient, in a sweet, calm, natural 
tone of voice, different from any thing that has 
been heard from her since the stroke of bereave- 
ment fell upon her, says, " Mother G., be pleased 

to call Mrs. ," naming the wife of the minister 

in whose house she is lying. The lady referred 
to is in a few moments standing at the bedside, 
when, feebly grasping her hand, the dying woman 

says, in trembling accents, " Mrs. , I have 

seen my dear husband, and I am going to him. 
We shall shortly both be with Jesus. But O, 

Mrs. , my poor dear children ! Will you take 

care of them until they can be sent to England?" 
The requested promise is given. A sweet smile 
of satisfaction passes over the pallid features. 
Gently throwing herself back upon the pillow, 
with her eyes uplifted to heaven, she becomes 
gradually still, the light dies out in the eye, the 
sunken countenance settles in the rigidity of death, 
the jaw slowly drops upon the loving hand that is 
outstretched to receive it, and the broken heart is 
at rest. The pure, loving spirit has passed away 
from the sorrows of earth, and the stricken widow 
is a widow no more. 



" The soul hath o'ertaken her mate, 
And caught him again in the sky, 

Advanced to her happy estate, 

And pleasure that never shall die ; 



582 Romance Without Fiction. 

Where glorified spirits, by sight, 
Converse in their holy abode, 

As stars in the firmament bright, 
And pure as the angels of God% 

" In loud halleluias they sing, 

And harmony echoes his praise ; 
When, lo ! the celestial King 

Pours out the full light of his face. 
The glory of God and the Lamb, 

(While all in the ecstacy join,) 
Darts into their spiritual frame, 

And gives the enjoyment divine." 



THE END. 



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